


Spider-Creep

by Luncheon



Category: Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Spider-Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luncheon/pseuds/Luncheon
Summary: Let's start from the beginning one last time: my name is Derek Driver. I was bitten by a radioactive spider-firefly hybrid, and for the last...whenever...I've been the one and only Spider-Creep. You guys know the rest. I came face to face with a murderer, formed a detective group, made some...acquaintances, and now I catch the bad guys - or rather, the people making costumes to get a piece of the attention. But I've learned that the attention isn't always a good thing.





	1. Issue #1: TV

Let’s start from the beginning: An uneventful childhood, years passing by swiftly, eventually led me to my senior year in high school. Midnight High, where everyone else appeared just as boring as me.

Well… that’s not entirely true. Some things happened. The power once went out for an entire half hour. At first you had the girls instantly screaming their lungs out, but as time passed the collective mood of the whole school changed into party mode. The principal spent several times longer than a half hour answering phone calls and keeping students in check. For parents, lights out at the school meant murder.

So high school… was it March 5th? At the time, the routine of life consumed me and the date meant nothing. Eventually, time slowly mutated into an arch nemesis hurling deadlines at the screen, and here is what the first one said:

\---

“Last evening, a body washed up near the Brooklyn Bridge. A swarm of fireflies surrounding the body allowed passerby to spot it in the otherwise pitch black riverside. Police confirmed the identity of the body as Mary Jane Watson, recently attending Empire State University and known by her classmates as ‘Tiger Jane.’ The cause of death is by knife wound, but as to how a body and mass of fireflies found themselves in the Hudson River is a mystery.” 

“Thank you, Robbie. More on Daily Bugle’s Eight O’ Clock Fanfare after these messages.”

The male and female reporters fixed their tie and shuffled their papers, with the screen flashing to scenes of sodas as I looked away, continuing my stroll to school. I almost felt bad for chuckling at the other headlines scrolling across the red banner at the bottom of the screen. ‘Model Felicia Hardy Reveals New Boob-Job’ and ‘Co-Creators of Candy Bar Split.’ Such a different tone from the murder, and so irrelevant too. 

Half an hour later and...I guess school happened. There was talk about the murder. I didn’t care as much as I should’ve. I didn’t know her. She was a corpse that drifted to Manhattan. 

The morning of March 6th, and Aunt May stopped me inches away from the door.

“Oh Derek, I love your shirt!” She klutzed over and brushed microscopic lint off of it.

“Um, it’s just a plain black t-shirt.”

“But with that black hair and those black eyes… you look like quite the character.”

“Thanks?... Has Uncle Ben already taken off?” I asked genuinely, May’s contagious, empathetic aura finally taking hold.

“He left THREE hours ago. Can you believe it? He tells me not to, but one of these days I’m sending a letter to them. Working him like a dog.”

Ben always followed the titan of work, but wow…5 a.m. I had enough trouble just getting up at 7:55, five minutes before May’s absolute, I’m-flipping-the-bed-over wake-up time. Getting ready is pretty easy: just throw on a shirt, comb your hair - oh yeah, pants I guess - and a couple swipes of a toothbrush. I don’t really do breakfast. Luckily, May eventually complied with my antics and stopped making extra for me. I felt horrible jumping out the door as she finished making pancakes and eggs and all sorts of other stuff, but I just can’t. Eating is a chore. An opinion of mine which I was forced to elaborate on several times later.

May looked endearingly at my shirt, brushed my cheek, and allowed me to slide out of the apartment.

School happened. 

The buzzing from my phone mixed in with the clunks from traveling down the concrete stairs in front of the entrance. 

“Hey, Derek.” The beaten voice of Ben answered my usual ‘hello.’ “Listen, this job is demanding so much right now. I haven’t been there for you and May these past few weeks. I- well, I have a special assignment. It requires me going a little ways away. Prospect Park. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Not having anything else to do, I said yes. 

I sat on the bottom stairs watching the many, many cars go by. The yellow from taxis not as much, as the black and white from mobile app transpo-companies rapidly took over. 

A group of police officers stood by the school, coming off of school patrol or something else I couldn’t care about. Of course I eavesdropped.

“Another blackout, this time at the library. Three hours until it even came back on.”

“Reckon some company’s hogging all the power. I hear Oscorp’s been experimenting lately.”

“Doubt it.”

“Ya think it’s just a group of pranksters? That’s where my brain automatically jumps to. The power outages are gaining attention so now everyone wants a part of it.”

“You all love your conspiracy theories. Probably some glitch in the city’s power grid. Wish it would be prioritized.”

“Lots of things seemta be happening lately, even for New York. What else we got? We got that murder…”

Ben’s dusty, dark green car pulled up and then I sat next to him crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. 

“So...what’s the assignment?”

“Oh.” Ben smiled. “This swarm of fireflies has caused a lot of stir in the office. Apparently there’s a species suddenly living here, previously only existing halfway across the world! There’s been a sighting of a large group in Prospect Park, and I’m going to try to take pictures of ‘em.” 

“At night?”

“Specialized camera. Apparently a recent invention they somehow got access to, and I’m now entrusted with one of the only ones.”

I knew who “they” was. The Daily Bugle, who had Ben committing his soul to finding photographs for their headlines. He didn’t overwork himself to pay the living expenses; he worked like this because the job made him do so. 

“Hey...uh, Ben?”

“Yes’m?”

I hated when he said that. “Were you one of the photographers for the murder?”

“For Mary Jane? I didn’t have any part of it. I was in Queens covering a landlord swindling his tenants.”

“Oh.”

Ben gleefully talked about his work adventures. I appreciated him always carrying a conversation, but he always included so many specifics and details I always drifted into thought. 

“May probably wouldn’t have wanted to come, but did you tell her about this?” I must have interrupted a story, because he has sternly closed his mouth before opening again to respond. 

“I told her, but she hung up without saying anything. I don’t think your aunt is particularly fond of the Bugle.”

“Wow… how on earth did you come up with that?” Ben and I shared a short laugh. We all knew the situation. May and I wanting Ben home, Ben wanting to be with us but also remaining incredibly loyal to his job. 

That usual wave of emptiness crossed over as the car finally stopped, the two of us stepping from asphalt to green grass. A pond from a certain angle instantly caused the reflected sun to burn into my eyes, so I spent until the sun went down absolutely avoiding the general direction. 

Ben circled the park, squinting into the long-lense camera or squatting to greet the flowers in bloom. “Alright Derek, are you ready?” he said with an extremely sure voice.

The trees grew paler as the sunlight’s touch brushed by, grass now rustling in the isolated wind, away from the billions of lights in the city that never sleeps directly across the river. Those lights started blinking, then crossed side to side, now dancing in any line imaginable; I stepped back in awe at the fireflies coming into focus. Clouds of orange and yellow light circled the same path Ben took, wobbling and expressing paragraphs of Morse code. 

This felt like a childhood memory. But I was experiencing this now, almost an adult, quite literally never seeing anything like it. 

Ben’s face grinned behind his camera, shutter rapidly clicking at the endless source of photos for the Daily Bugle.

His grin continued on the ride home. I wanted to go back. It beat homework, it beat television, it beat every other part of the nightly routine. I glanced at the water underneath the bridge as the car turned onto the streets in Manhattan. I wondered if the fireflies followed the body, from the park all the way to here. 

“Do you think the Bugle will like any of them?” I asked an unusually quiet Ben, city lights rhythmically passing over our faces.

“I sure hope so. Only time will tell. You know how picky the editor-in-chief can be.”

“That’s very true.” I proceeded to enjoy the view of neon signs and advertisements.

One exemplary performance of parallel parking later and I unlocked the car door to go into the apartment. 

“Dang it.” Ben mumbled, still sitting in the car.

“What’s wrong?”

“The key isn’t turning. It’s going to be a fast problem if I can’t make this car turn off. You go on inside, Derek.”

Skipping the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time as a half-assed attempt at exercise. The lights for the stairs never worked; light filtering from outside guided me up the flights. I grabbed the key from my pocket and unlocked the bottom lock, entering an even darker apartment. 

An electronic billboard’s glare showed me Aunt May, clutching the arm of a black coat. A knife, catching the glare, hovered in front of her, a black mask watching behind her. 

I couldn’t comprehend. I couldn’t make it out. I didn’t want to. An outline of a man dressed in black held my aunt desperately trying to push away. The mask turned; I was spotted. 

A car suddenly roared on the street. The figure slit her throat. The curtains ruffled as a body instantly left them. 

I screamed my aunt’s name, rushing for a phone with no lights on keypads emitting from it, rushing for the light switch. I flicked it several times with no result; I held the light switch in my hand, pulling it out from one of my emotions. I fell over as I tried to lower myself to Aunt May. She looked at me so sweetly, her body hiccuping as a river of blood stained one of her favorite shirts. Muffled footsteps sounded overhead; strangers yelled for some status to satiate their curiosity, a couple staring through the door’s frame with no way to help. Uncle Ben bulldozed past to kneel beside me, same expression as everyone else. May’s body stopped writhing - she was at peace. 


	2. Issue #2: Siren

Saturday allowed me to reflect on last night. I watched someone murder my aunt. I spent the following hours not sleeping, obsessing over how I didn’t do anything to stop him. But an hour before the funeral I accepted that I COULDN’T do anything. 

I only realized I could still use the wonderful invention called a cell phone also several hours later. Luckily, a few neighbors in the apartment had it covered. I was thankful that even in a city like New York, we could come together for that split second. 

May didn’t want publicity; she just wanted to be with her family. That didn’t stop headlines, blaring her death between beverages and facelifts. 

I layed on the couch in an apartment, legs sprawled in four different directions and pillows covering my body and sliding off the cushions. Our true one became a crime scene. A man with no forced entry, no motive, and the accompaniment of a power outage invited society to be entertained for a short while. 

Ben sat by the kitchen drinking his fifth cup of coffee, emptily staring at a newspaper of the Daily Bugle. The shine of bleaching lights in the kitchen overhead made his hair look gray. 

Three hollow snocks sounded from the door, and Ben came over and opened it before I could even get off the couch. A police officer stood in the doorway, clutching his hat in his right hand. 

“Hello…” He sounded like he didn’t want to be here. “My name is George Stacy. I’m a detective assigned to the case of May Driver. There’s been…consistency with the murder of Mary Jane Watson and now the police are looking further into it. Do you mind if I speak with your nephew?”

He crouched down on the coffee table across from me. I noticed a bad case of dirty blonde hathair and a faint beard. I imagined he didn’t have the time to shave, with everything that went down. 

“Ok, first off,” he sighed, “Derek Driver, right? I’m not going to pretend like I know what you’re going through.” He didn’t. “I’m also sorry for asking you to relive the moment so shortly after it happened. A possible serial killer in the city is now a top priority, and the mayor has asked for a detailed report in three days. So now, I’m on a deadline.”

I said nothing. 

He shifted the hat in his hands and explained himself again. “Your aunt may have been the second victim of a serial killer. The first victim’s cause of death was a vertical cut from the knife down the middle of her chest. This cause is a horizontal slit to the throat. Both also have reddish hair.”

I already made the connections on my own, but I just replied with a nod. 

“I would like,” he continued, “to hear your description of last night. You may take your time and even give it tomorrow. You’re statement, however, is very important.”

I signaled to an Uncle Ben staring protectively at me from across the room that it was alright. I told him about last night as to-the-point as possible. The power was out; a man was there; Aunt May was murdered. 

Detective Stacy cleared his throat, shuffled his hat, then stood up and shuffled to the door. “Thank you,” he said, shaking Ben’s stern hand. “When progress is made, I will notify you immediately. I’m sure you want this man to pay, and I will make him.”

\---

On Sunday March 8th, Ben knocked then immediately came into my room. Another trademark of his. “Hey, let’s get breakfast.”

Even though the clocks read 2 P.M., Joe’s Diner brought pancakes and scrambled eggs to our table. I quietly enjoyed it, realizing the last time I even ate breakfast was last year. And now, I couldn’t enjoy it with May ever again. I would never be able to tell her how much I enjoyed it, I could never thank her again…

That usual feeling came over me, where my stomach dropped and I faced an enclosing room of nothing but screens with static. It felt like the opposite of emotion, a constant feeling of nothing: I’m staring at nothing with a blank face, feeling nothing while a constant, empty hum fills my mind. 

A woman’s gasp pointed me to the TV hanging in the corner of the diner. A camera belonging to the Daily Bugle focused on a dark pizza joint with police cars surrounding, each siren spinning in red and blue light. 

“Half an hour ago,” a raspy woman’s voice emitted from the television, “Peter’s Pizza Party reported a power outage. Police arrived en masse, under suspicion a power outage equals murder. This is due to an incident Friday evening, after May Driver…”

I chuckled at the return on my dead aunt on the screen. I knew I couldn’t escape it, but still. I also decided this would be the time to prepare myself for school tomorrow, where everyone would most likely give a face or feel the need to say sorry. Personally, I’d rather be completely left alone like I always was.

The news coverage concluded the same time Ben and I pulled open the glass door to the diner. This power outage turned up nothing. My first guess: the killer knew his trademark was known. After his slip up with me, only an idiot would try the same method again. But, the power still continued to go out…

I burned through my evening throwing a tennis ball I found under the couch at the wall, then reaching out to catch it.

“Are you sure you want to go to school tomorrow?” Ben asked from across the room, viewing the photos on the special Oscorp camera.

“I’m sure. I can handle it. I know people are going to remind me of it, but I’m ready to ignore it.”

“I believe how you feel, but it’s okay to grieve. If it ever does get to you, just know you’re not weak.”

“Thanks…” I know he was just looking out for me, but I really was okay. Why, though? Surely I should’ve felt something...but I already moved on apparently. 

Next morning, March 9th, and I walked down the hallway to my purple locker. I used a tiny mirror stuck on the inside of the door to straighten my hair; the thing conveniently existed inside before the locker was even mine. In the corner, I noticed a bush of blonde hair, quickly darting out of view. 

First class, English, went by without an acknowledgement of my last name, but I wish it wasn’t so awkward with eyes peering at me for consecutive split seconds. The occurrence repeated until lunch, where I returned to my locker to grab a granola bar I stuck somewhere in my backpack. Always hated having to get something for lunch. Wish I didn’t need to eat.

Blonde hair appeared in my puny mirror again, and this time I instantly turned around, feeling irrationally angry. 

A random girl with long, wavy hair and a preppy gray shirt clutched a textbook in her hand, staring at me.

“Yeah?” I said more aggressively than I would have liked. Nothing happened to me today, but I wanted to hurt someone. The girl’s face, however, intrigued me: an expression without pity. Looking further, I slightly recognized her: Gwen Stacy. Well-liked and dating a jock, but not exactly a center of the drama usually circling in the school.

“Um.” She shifted her weight. “I’m gonna say it straight out. My dad is the detective trying to find the murderer. He’s really passionate about it. I also would like to help, if you want it. That’s all.” Blonde hair swung as she speed-walked down the hallway to a waiting Flash Thompson. 

Okay.

Hours burned by; I returned to the secondary apartment where Ben sat at the kitchen table, already home. A man’s excited bellowing about lawnmowers came from the TV by the couch, turned on with the remote beside it.

“How come the TV’s on? And how are you already home? I guess that’s my first question.”

“Well, I’m not exactly allowed to cover your aunt’s case. I’m being sort of ushered out of the office in the meantime. I did cover a pet adoption charity; I’m waiting to see if they’re covering any of it today.”

“Hey, that’s neat.” It really was. I was proud of him. 

Commercials cut to Daily Bugle’s evening program, but the information being covered looked nothing like puppies. “We present to you breaking news: Delilah Higgenson, an apparent third victim of the recent string of murders, was found minutes ago hanging from the edge of a billboard in Times Square. Witnesses report a long cut running across her left arm and a swarm of fireflies flying around her body, now dubbed as Corpse Fires from anonymous scientists studying this mysterious species. At the same of of the body’s sighting, police were answering a power outage at a well known strip club. Was this a distraction set up by the murderer? Have the police yet to make any advancements on the case? We will answer these questions after-”

Ben stood in front of the TV holding the remote, taking off his reading glasses and rubbing his temple. “It just gets worse, huh?

Red hair, knife gash… if Gwen’s dad had made any progress by now, they definitely would have a profile. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed.” Ben walked like an old man toward his bedroom, continuing to squint and rub his head. “Goodnight, Derek.”

\---

With so much suddenly happening, the dates came to me quicker and stayed in the back of my mind. I double-checked the ‘March 10th’ on my phone’s home screen as I clunked up the stairs to the high school. I never really bothered to notice the weather, but now I saw an incredibly cloudy reflection of the sky in the school’s windows.

Focus on my aunt diminished, the new victim garnering most of the focus. Another incident also occurred that took minds off of me: during second period, the power went out. Girls screamed this time as well, but now a sense of genuine fear was embedded in them than just an attempt at quirkiness. Half an hour before lunch, light finally returned. 

“Do you know who that lady was?” asked one of the students to their group of friends walking by my locker, the hysteria finally clearing throughout the hallways.

“Nuh-uh.”

“She worked with a group that cleans up trash in the river and parks and what not. She was apparently one of the leaders, too. Everyone loved her. It’s like, so unfair.”

“Yeah…”

I suddenly leaned against my locker, having to calm my breath and my mind. Aunt May helped charities for adoption. She loved that job… she was such a great human being. I wondered if that’s what triggered Ben last night. What should’ve been a subtle tribute turned into just a reminder of murder and the corruption in people. I took a deep breath and closed my locker.

Gwen Stacy stood right beside me, apparently hidden from view by the door with the itsy-bitsy mirror. I may or may not have jumped. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Um…”

Gwen leaned forward and began to talk in a hushed tone. “I think those power outages are connected.”

“Wha-”

“There’s a pattern. My dad thought there was one too, but now the police are dismissing it.”

“How does this relate to-”

“The whole connection with the nightly murders.”

“I meant, why are you telling me?”

“Aren’t you interested?”

“I don’t know. And I’m also not sure what I’m supposed to do with this information.”

Gwen inched closer. “Okay, look. My dad probably told you something like ‘I’m not assuming how you feel.’ Thing is though, he does understand. I do too. Our mother was murdered when I was 12. Obviously I don’t think its connected to these, but I remember being obsessed with the case. I wanted to know everything my dad was doing as a detective. But then the trail went cold. It wasn’t solved. Are you catching me?”

“Catching you?”

“You know what I mean. Just like you, I don’t want pity. I just want you to understand why I care. I also want to somehow investigate those lights.”

“I...would not know how at all.”

Gwen snatched my phone and began inputting her number into my contacts. “Well, if you do become interested, I want to talk about it with someone.”

“You sure you’re boyfriend doesn’t mind the sudden act of giving your number to a guy?”

“Flash isn’t my boyfriend. If he tells you he is, that’s totally not true. I eat lunch with him and his buddies. That’s it. See you.” She took off the same direction she did last time.

She really couldn’t just leave me alone, huh? I felt tired and angry again. It felt misplaced. It shouldn’t be at her, but I wanted it to be. I wanted to aim it at the world.

Thousands of thoughts crossed my mind per second back home. 

“Hey, Derek.” Ben said to me somewhere in the apartment. “I need to run and get groceries. I’ll be back soon. Be careful.”

The door shut. I sat on the couch, feeling the sudden silence. I thought about how no one was around...someone I loved was no longer around...and I hung my head down and cried. I missed Aunt May. I hated the sudden moment of the life of a loved one being taken from me. None of us got a choice of how she would die, or when she would go. I missed her picking random stuff off of my clothes, telling me to shower when I got home after instantly seeing specks of dirt in my fingernails, making special dinners for Ben when she knew he would get home late, singing songs of praise about the kids she worked with, other work stories, anything. I never knew my birth parents, but that never mattered. May was my mom. 

In the presence of others, my mind forbade me from showing any emotion. But now, the first time home alone, and my emotions poured out. Crudely. 

The tears dried but I kept my head buried in one of the thousands of couch pillows. That is, until a gong clash of thunder popped out of nowhere, and my phone buzzed on the coffee table, wiggling from the vibrations. 

A text from Gwen.  _ It’s probably going to rain tonight.  _ Yeah, probably.  _ No one is going to be paying attention to a building losing power in a thunderstorm. I’m gonna send you an address. Meet me here if you’re willing.  _

Something about my little outbreak caused me to feel refreshed. I answered her silly cryptid texts and soon stood face-to-face with her in front of a tall apartment building. Her hair seemed to be pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a black coat and leggings as if she was about to commit a crime of her own.

“What the hell are we doing?”

“Remember how I said that I found a pattern? I don’t think it correlates with the killer, but it’s definitely doing something.”

“Okay…”

She grabbed a wrinkled tourist’s brochure from her coat pocket and unfolded it to reveal a map of New York City with colorful circles and lines decorating it. “So first, I thought each place held some importance of its own. But they don’t. They’re random. HowEVER,” she added, picking up on my awful habit of skepticism that must have been shown on my face, “I decided to add a little line through them. Like connecting the dots. Look.”

I took note of a line weaving through the blocks, making u-turns and squigglies instead of just staying as sharp, straight lines. I still wasn’t exactly sure of its purpose.

“It’s a path.” she explained. “Like if you were to stop by multiple places on an errand run.”

“Leaving my apartment, grabbing a slice of pizza and hitting a strip club does sound like a plan.”

“They’re not actual errands, though. I’m not sure how to explain it. Each place can be pretty busy. Apartments have each tenant using power. Your strip clubs have all those flashing lights and what not. It feels like someone is aware of this and is purposefully somehow shutting off the power.”

“For fun?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but if you look at the path and distance between the outages, the next one should be around here. There’s several apartment buildings with people still up. If we watch around here we might notice one building going out. 

“Sure?”

Gwen entered the apartment beside us, myself anxiously running after her. “Are you-”

“Going to the rooftop. I want a better view.”

We took the elevator to the highest floor, and Gwen proceeded to find the stairs with one closed door leading to the roof beside them. She instantly took out a hairpin and began picking the lock. 

“I’m guessing you want to be a detective.”

“Maybe,” she answered, pulling out the pin and turning the doorknob. “I respect my father, but there’s more to me than the law.”

We now crouched on the roof filled with tiny rocks, glancing at the apartments on either side of us. I felt a tiny drizzle, puny compared to the booms of thunder overhead. It sounded like an incompetent orchestra with the percussion section literally dropping cymbals and knocking over the bass drum. 

“You say you don’t want to be a detective, yet you both thought and figured out a pattern for something people think is now irrelevant.”

Gwen sort of tilted her head, staring at a window full of yellow light. “I don’t think it’s ‘irrelevant,’ but its not related to the killings. At first I thought it was when...you know… but now I don’t, just like a lot of people. However, I refuse to believe that a chain of power outages doesn’t deserve a closer look in comparison to a chain of murders. They’re less horrifying, but it still affects people… that’s just what I think.”

“This feels so ridiculous. Us up here. I barely know you yesterday, and now I have your number, on a stakeout for some criminal.”

“I wanted to get out of the house. I’m sick of school. After hearing and experiencing all of this, I said ‘to hell with it’ and decided to come here. We might not even see anything, but it was fun being here with you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious!” 

I made myself laugh, and I thought Gwen did too, but genuine compared to mine. However, my eyes instantly jumped to a greenhouse tucked in between buildings, the lights inside growing brighter and spiking, then strobing and dimming, repeating in a nonsensical order. 

I heard shoes swiping against rock as Gwen quickly stood up and headed to the rooftop door. 

“Are you checking it out?” 

“Yeah.”

I followed. I really was curious. This was another adventure I could share with another human. Gwen and I ducked inside the alley and stepped into a grassy area surrounded by the bricked buildings, like a community garden or something of the nature. 

Our footsteps slowed, approaching the entrance of the greenhouse. Gwen pulled another item out of her pockets: a gun. A freaking gun. 

“Do you even know how to use that?!”

“Do you? I’ve been meaning to but I haven’t had the time. I can’t exactly learn it right now either. Just- follow me.”

A screen door whined as we entered. Lights buzzed overhead, and smaller ones stood over potted plants and cages of...bugs. 

“Are bugs usually in a greenhouse?”

“Maybe its for a science project?” Gwen theorized. “Its communal, after all.”

In between seconds of white and black, I made out tarantulas, an ant colony, and other creepy crawlies. In the middle of the greenhouse, various plants sat on a long wooden table like a medieval feast for vegetarians. The glass aquariums and cages lined the walls, movement in each one as the animals reacted to the mood-swinging lights. When the greenhouse turned to pitch black, I noticed some interesting cages at the back end. When it went black, I saw yellow and orange.

“Hey, Gwen!”

She came over, instantly becoming fixated on the bugs in the cage like I was. 

Fireflies. The same kind I saw with Ben. Looking like brown beetles, they also had insignias of layered circles on their shells, as if someone branded them. The circles also lighted up, but as a faint glow instead of a full lightbulb like the ends of their tails. 

“These are the Corpse Fires.” Gwen said as she studied the cages, pacing side to side. “Why is someone keeping them here?”

“I saw these at Prospect Park with my uncle. He said they’re a species unique to an Asian country.”

“I wonder if someone brought them here…”

I put my face on the glass so I could get a clean, one hundred percent look at them. They weren’t exactly...handsome. In one of the cages, they looked mutated, with eight legs and three pairs of wings. The faces, too… the first thing that came to mind was some wacky spider-beetle mutant. I showed Gwen these unique few guys, contained in their own cage. 

We also noticed something arguably even more weird and/or interesting. Some of them flew around together, darting from place to place instead of keeping a smooth trail. When they darted upwards, the lights grew brighter. Gwen obviously noticed too. 

“Are these the cause of the outages? But, the lights are pulsating when they move, not going out…” Gwen’s totally-not-detective brain started to go to work.

Between the cage and the lid on the upper left side was an electronic lock, reminding me of the graphing calculators in our math classes. Except it was turned off, its screen pitch black. I gave it a sideways point with my thumb, alerting Gwen. 

“If they caused outages, then the locks would never work....” she thought aloud, fiddling with the keypad on the lock. “What the hell are they then? I’m about ready to give up.”

“Nooooo, don’t give up, this case is actually interesting now.” I answered teasingly. 

“Let’s check this out tomorrow, when the outage passes. I am not taking an unlocked cage of mutant fireflies home with me. Oh yeah, I didn’t even think about how I would explain it to my dad…”

I agreed wholeheartedly. We nearly speed-walked back out of the greenhouse. I stopped one last time to take in the grotesque sight of bugs writhing in the environment of a bizarre light show. At first I thought I felt a bug on me, paranoid, but then sensation began crawling up my shoulder. Before I could turn, a stab of pain like a doctor’s needle entered the side of my neck. Amidst the flickering lights I noticed one of the mutated bug thingies zigzagging up to the top of the greenhouse. I got my ass out of there. 

I held up one arm in a goodbye gesture to Gwen, and sent myself on the path home. I had sent a text to Ben explaining I’d be out with friends. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too suspicious, considering I’ve never talked with him about having any. 

My mind jumped from Ben to Gwen. The desire to take action… I could definitely relate. May’s death ripped out a piece of my shrunken heart, yet I felt content with the world. I had some sort of sense of maturity brewing in my mind. I was thinking thoughts I never have before: about death, dealing with the loss of life, mending broken bonds or simply creating new ones.

I began to feel queasy, I suspected from a lack of sleep and also the fear I got bitten by a Brown Recluse and now my body was turning to stone like that weird disease I saw on TV. TV… there’s a lot to say about the TV.

I was glad the stairs in this apartment building had lights above them, even though I never noticed any before. I easily maneuvered to the new apartment, opening the door and seeing Ben once again at the kitchen table. 

“Welcome back, Derek! Hmm?” He leaned in his chair and looked behind me at the empty hallway. “The light in the hallway stopped working earlier and someone’s not coming until tomorrow morning to fix it. I had trouble getting up here. Did you?”

“Wha-?”

My vision blurred for a second. 

“Derek, you alright?”

Somehow I was crouched down, leaning on a chair. “I’m fine. I’m not feeling bad at all. Honest.”

I stood up, still staring at the carpet. I tried to look up to head to my room, but automatically ducked my head back down, like some sort of fight-or-flight response. I tried again, forcing myself to hold my head up high. 

A swimming sea of light. Blinding. I couldn’t make anything out. Crawling on the floor, I darted for the direction of my room, throwing my arm into the air for the door handle and then sliding inside like a snake. I looked around, suddenly able to see fine. I headed to the window, wondering what just came over me. Maybe there was venom or something in that bug. A car on the street underneath passed with those blue LED lights. My eyes felt like they retracted into my skull. I writhed in pain and buried my face in my bed. 

Something about light: it hurts. Every lightbulb possessed the intensity of the sun. 

Ben knocked on my door, but stayed on the other side. “You’re scaring me. I just watched my nephew spider-crawl across the floor.” 

“I think it’s food poisoning. We ate at a sketchy pizza place.”

“Well, get better soon.” Ben’s footsteps faded, and I heard the flick of a light switch. I somehow felt the light underneath the door fade; I looked at the bottom of the door, able to keep my eyes on it without feeling nauseous. 

My toothbrush...I needed to brush my teeth. The bathroom sink...across the apartment. I stood up, obtaining a sudden major case of jello legs. My body bent over… nuh-uh. No way am I taking another step. I plopped back down, wondering what in the world was happening to me.   
  



	3. Issue #3: Sun

While not exactly sure what I dreamt, I definitely did have… a dream. Pulsing orange lights, like at a club, crossed my mind on repeat. My eyes crept open, the rest of my body feeling like it was in a trance. The past couple days, Aunt May stayed right on my mind. Now, my one-third asleep self was focusing, on repeat, the words Gwen said to me last night.  _ The desire to change… the desire to change… the desire to change… _

Trippy thoughts immediately cut off when my eyes slowly traveled to the clock on my wall… then snapped open like shattering glass. 8:10 A.M., twenty minutes before class. My aunt’s bulldozer tactic could no longer work, and I don’t think Ben ever picked up on it, usually already having left. 

Sliding off of a sweat-soaked mattress, I rushed to my unfolded basket of clothes and pretty much literally threw on pants and a shirt, which came on much easier than they usually did. Then I took a quick glance at my window - worst mistake of my life. I clutched my head. Something about light now caused me to go berserk, unable to bear a single second of it. I swiped a normally unused pair of sunglasses from my desk with one lens periodically popping out of its socket and tried them on. While I could somehow see perfectly through them without darkened vision, the remaining navy blue coloring softened the beams of light creeping by my door. I took one more brave look at the window; it still hurt, but I didn’t immediately sense the agonizing pain. Time to skedaddle to school.

I learned forward, placing one hand on the door, mentally preparing myself for a world of pain and LSD-induced hallucinations. I then stood stood back straight, but my hand didn’t follow my body. Pulling again, the stubborn hand remained stuck to the door. Actually stuck. Ten more pulls later, each with increasing force, and nothing changed. Sighing, I looked down and shook my head. Three...two...one…. I pulled one last time with maximum force and the hand unstuck, feeling like I just peeled off my fingerprints. 

No Ben in the living room. I immediately assumed the Daily Bugle called him in for another story. He grieving time must have been up, huh Bugle? One long, continuous slide to the door later and I was traveling down the stairs two at a time, emerging into the sunny city speed-walking. March 11th. 

Soon I began to pass the electronics store with TVs displayed in the front window and speakers hanging outside. The middle TV always had the news playing; I tried to listen to today’s without looking at it.

“And so, what do you think about Sunday’s body?” An energetic female reporter seemed to be interviewing someone.

“Well, the crime seems simple at first glance.” A younger female’s voice answered, but this one also carried a mature and sober tone. “The poison was the cause of death, which he drank from a small plastic cup. He then fell back in his chair with green fluid dripping from his mouth. We’re still not-”

“Do you think this has anything to do with the Firefall Killer?” The reporter butted in, very excited to hear the answer to another question.

“I definitely made connections between the two cases; however, th-”

“You all hear that? It seems the Firefall Killer can also be blamed for the people recently being poisoned in New York!”

“N-no, I-” 

“In Chinatown, a police team led by this courageous woman…” Already in a different mode, the reporter proceeded to describe facts about the police, brushing aside her guest.

The murderer, a string of power outages, and now a string of poisonings? More and more problems kept being added onto the city, creating this intricate web...

And also… the  _ Firefall Killer?  _ Apparently someone somewhere decided on a name for the serial murderer while I was out and it quickly spread everywhere else, just like the name for the fireflies. That cop, too. I felt like I recognized her voice from somewhere. I looked at the TV beside me to see who she was, completely forgetting my last eight hours of insanity. An uncontrollable urge instantly welled up in my stomach, and I ran into the closest alley to vomit. 

Oh yeah… school. More running and what not and I barged into my first period class twenty minutes late. 

“Um, sorry.” I said, offering words of peace to a staring class and teacher. “I accidentally scratched my eye coming here...and I ran late.” I added, remembering the sunglasses. The rest of the period went by fairly well compared to what just went down. 

Other periods scraped by, reasonably bearable until right before lunch, when a certain movie couldn’t be supported by the teacher’s computer and a whole-ass TV was rolled in to the front. Only three seconds in and I felt it.

“I’m sorry, I *hic* have to use the restroom.” I took my backpack with me, knowing exactly what would happen next. 

One more vomit session later and I roamed the halls, now at lunchtime. Usually priding myself on being unproblematic as possible, it felt awkward receiving curious glances from other students for my sunglasses. Teachers walking through also took notice of them.

“Mr. Driver, no sunglasses inside the school.” said one of the math teachers with a stupid mustache. 

“I have a migraine.” Did migraines even work like that?

“Well then, carry on.”

Wow. 

Walking under the lights in this school also felt painful, but now I could endure it. I wasn’t sure if I was already getting used to the lights around me or what. 

In my tiny mirror, the bite on my neck showed nothing except a small red bump. For everything it caused me today, it deserved a swelling purple sack that dripped. I closed my locker door after grabbing a bag of chips wedged somewhere in the bowels of my backpack, and met Gwen Stacy. Again. 

“I...want to go back to that greenhouse tonight.” she said almost instantly.

“Believe it or not, I want to as well, but first… things have been happening.” If there was anyone I could share my problems too, it would be the one who literally saw everything I did last evening.

“Like what?”

“...Weird stuff.”

“Liiiiiike?”

“I think that monster bug that bit me last night did something. Every time I look at bright lights, it hurts. A lot. Pretty sure it turned me into a vampire.”

“But can’t vampires not go out in the daytime?”

“I…guess? I don’t care. It was a joke.”

“Well that explains the sunglasses. Even more of a reason to go tonight, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s go directly after school. We can just walk there.”

Gwen bit her lip. “Yeah, we can. I’d still rather do it later.”

“Why?”

“...Reasons. I’ll meet you after school, though. Hell with it.” 

She left the same direction. Again. As if the background was muffled for our conversation like a movie, suddenly chatter in the hallways became louder and clearer. 

“Did you know?” More groups were spreading gossip throughout the school. “The girl they interviewed this morning goes to our high school!”

“Really? That’s so cool! What’s her name?”

“It didn’t say her name on the screen. It just said ‘NYPD Chinatown Division.’”

I looked behind me so my curiosity could have a face with the chatter, but no one was there. The only students were already on the complete opposite side of the hallway. Focusing, I could still hear the rest of their conversation. 

That trend continued until after school, where suddenly any whispering in classrooms might as well have been through a megaphone. I never needed glasses, yet I swore I could see things a mile further than I usually could. Even the voice in my head felt amplified, no single part of my body unaffected by this mutated bug. 

\---

I sat on the concrete steps outside the school, absorbing the heat from New York’s weak spring sun. I threw off my sunglasses and stared at the sky until it hurt. Five seconds. A new record. Gwen still hadn’t shown up, fifteen minutes after the last bell - which, by the way, blared super loud. 

A kid suddenly came out of the school yelling. “This is a load of BULL!” 

Not Gwen.

He seemed to be arguing with a teacher as they walked out, both equally heated.

“Mr. Morales, you are  _ one  _ fight away from being expelled from this school!”

“Blame Flash Thompson! He’s the one provoking every fight in this school!”

“If that was true, he would be under the same punishment you are right now.”

Some passionate words later, and mister Morales huffed down the street, passing in front of me. He wore a fashionable pair of basketball shoes with a hoodie almost matching the colors. He also wore a remarkably furious expression. Was he really in a fight with Flash Thompson?

Speak of the devil. Now it was Gwen’s turn to exit the school, closely followed by the infamous jock pelting her with questions. “So ‘no?’”

“Yes, ‘no.’”

“Then how come?”

“I’m busy, okay? And I’m worried about my father. A lot’s been happening.”

Flash rushed forward and blocked her path. “Your father’s a cop. He’ll be fine.”

Gwen’s cool-headed nature began to collapse. “I said NO!” She shoved the hefty textbooks she always carried in her hands straight into Flash’s stomach and hurried down the concrete stairs. Flash brushed himself off and sulked back into the school.

“So what was that?” I inquired after making sure the coast was clear, careful to not make an innocent person’s situation worse.

Gwen looked anxious. “He wanted me to walk home with him.”

“And so before this, you said ‘yes’ every time?” I asked furiously.

“Then you try saying no. Every. Single. Day!” She sounded desperate. “He asks me every day to sit with him, every day to walk home with him. This is high school. I’m trapped in the same building with him. Teachers love him. What am I supposed to do?”

The fight outside the school just before her’s suddenly became extremely relevant. 

“Well…” I tried to soothe her. “Let’s go to the greenhouse. That’s something you actually want to do, right?”

The walk to the apartment complexes felt surprisingly relaxing, mostly because of the company, but when we entered the community garden area, drowned in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, the atmosphere changed to how I felt last night. 

Lights no longer buzzed. Daylight crept through, illuminating askew glass cages and ruffled plants. Noticing after an “oh no!” by Gwen, the cages housing the Corpse Fires were now gone, including the one with the spider-firefly hybrids. Broken glass decorated the nearby ground, and in between two large shards lay one of the mutants, dead. 

“That’s probably the bastard that bit me last night.”

His eight legs reached out into the air, his six wings broken and bent. Amber bug juice spilled out of his body and made multiple tiny puddles next to him. Gwen poked it with a wooden branch broken off from the plants, and more amber fluid poured out of him.

I groaned. So that was inside me. 

“Let’s look around…” suggested Gwen. “I don’t think we’re going to find any clues like a cartoon but we might find something, anything.”

I studied the other cages of bugs and lizards and spiders and who cares, seeing how the light show treated them. Most just stared back or scurried into a corner. Maybe I could be a super spy and find something in here that the killer stashed away. Sadly, I had no dumb luck.

“So, does this change your opinion on if the power outages and the killer are connected?” Even if it was just about the case, I wanted to talk to Gwen. I was already getting sick of things just  _ happening.  _ I wanted to get to know her like a normal high school student. 

“Hmm, maybe.” she answered from across the greenhouse, still checking out the vacant wooden bench. “Why would the Corpse Fires be here otherwise? The fact they made the light stronger is also really interesting…”

“Yeah, sucks that something so neat is tied to a serial killer.”

Gwen seemed busy, or maybe she was just ignoring me now.

“So hey - on a not-so-related topic about light, what’s your favorite color?”

She laughed. “Favorite color?”

“Mmhm. I feel like I got to know you the opposite direction. I feel like we’re normally supposed to start with how the day went, not dead people.”

“Yellow.”

“Really? You’re the first I know of that’s said that. It’s usually blue.”

“What’s yours?”

“Honestly? Haven’t thought about it much. I guess black. Matches with me the most.”

Gwen chuckled again. Wow, I must’ve been putting on that good ol’ nonexistent, rusted, Derek Driver charm. 

I heard a clatter from Gwen’s area. “Nothing.” she added, annoyed.

“Well, where do you think the next outage will b-”

“FREEZE! TURN AROUND AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

A cop had barged into the greenhouse, pointing a gun at Gwen. He then turned down his demeanor several notches, clearly expecting different company. “What are you doing in this greenhouse alone?”

“Alone?” Gwen gasped, looking around the greenhouse and slightly upwards then quickly stopping it, realizing what she was doing. “I mean- yeah, you startled me.”

She was correct, for I was somehow on the ceiling, my hands completely glued to it. Before the door opened I felt a chill, flipped, and ended up here pretty much involuntarily. 

“There’s a sign outside this greenhouse clearly stating its under police investigation. So, again, why are you here.”

“Wait, so they  _ are  _ still checking out places with the outages?”

“Why does it matter to ya?”

“Oh - it doesn’t - I was just wondering ha ha…”

“ _ What are you doing in here? _ ”

“I had a science project stored in here. We were growing plants in water bottles and I needed a good place to store it - but my partner must have already came and took it. We both live around here and-”

“Get out!”

Gwen scurried out of the greenhouse. The cop continued to walk further inside, glancing at both ends of wooden benches and pots. “Sorry, just some dumb teenager.” He muttered into a comm device, then walked back out. 

I stayed stuck to the ceiling, afraid of what would happen if the cop saw someone exit the completely vacant greenhouse he just examined. 

It was about the time of two runs of an annoying pop song stuck in my head when the door creaked open, and Gwen’s hand rapidly ushered me. 

Still stuck, I crawled over until I had no more ceiling. Now how did I get unstuck? I imagined a bug perched on a leaf, instantly leaping off of it like a shot in a nature documentary. I flicked my arms and then fell onto the floor. 

“Ow.”

Gwen opened the door again, looking down at me. “Come on!” she whispered, her hand ushering me in the same motion and tempo. 

“Apparently our friendly cop got an important call and left.” she explained. “And uh… that was cool.”

“I’m not exactly sure what I did.”

“I think that bug did more than make you sensitive to light,” she jested. 

“Maybe. Again, I have no idea what happened.”

“Well, I’m just glad that cop wasn’t from Dad’s division. I didn’t recognize him at all.”

“I’m guessing you’ve been to the station with him?”

“Many times. Both as a kid and now. Weirdly, I think its a fun place to be.”

“It’s not that weird. I love airports.”

“You’ve traveled?”

“Just once. Disneyworld. I don’t think I’m allowed back at Disney, though.”

“How come.”

“Assaulted a costume actor because I thought he stole my ice cream.”

The startling sound of sirens traveled down the street, then faded.

I tried to check my phone for the time, but nausea ensued as soon as I turned it on. I dropped it, turning over and kneeling in the grass. 

“Derek? Is this because of the lights you mentioned?”

“Yeah, but its especially bad with TVs, and now my phone. I have no idea why.”

“Maybe it’s the blue light. Here.” Out of the corner of my eye, Gwen picked it up and fondled with the screen. “Now try. I turned it on night mode for you.”

Sure enough, the screen now only hurt painfully instead of inducing vomiting. “Thanks.”

“And its evening.” said Gwen. “We should start heading back.”

“I thought you live in another direction.”

“There’s a pizza place not far from here.”

“Ohhhhh, I see.”

We enjoyed a couple slices of pizza that could probably have folded themselves three times over. The TV overhead which I could only listen to covered the poisonings, a new buzzing topic. Our own conversation revolved around classes and the case.

“So here,” Gwen said pointing to her crumpled map, “is the next area I think the power will be cut to. The only interesting place is a fashion store, so that’s most likely it.”

“Is that the plan for tomorrow?

“Yeah. I still want to check out that greenhouse though when it gets taken off of police watch. I doubt people will care about it much longer. That broken glass is the only interesting thing there and it could’ve been caused by anything.”

So dinner passed, and Gwen and I stood out in the night light with neon signs and advertisements as the stars of New York which I could no longer look at. I sidestepped and pulled Gwen away from a biker rushing down the sidewalk. 

“Well, I should probably head home.” said Gwen, who I could swear was looking at me funny. 

“You’re further away then I am. Let me walk you through some of the way home.” I cringed after realizing I sounded like Flash.

“Sure.”

A couple blocks passed, and I tried to stare at every electronic billboard and every sign for every shop, wanting to get used to the pain.

“Just need to go around the corner, and after that it’s an easy walk for me.” said Gwen.

“Hey, let’s cut through this alley.”

“But-”

“Come on!” I waved, unsure of why she was cautious of a lit street. 

Gwen stopped behind me. “Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re able to see through a completely dark alley, at night, with sunglasses.”

I ran a finger over the side of my forehead. Sure enough, the sunglasses were still on my face. “I ...uh…”

“Derek, what the heck is going on?”

“I don’t know! Seriously. I know as much as you.”

A textbook from Gwen’s deathly arsenal came soaring at my face. Except I turned and dodged it perfectly long before it would’ve struck me.

“Derek.  _ What is going on _ ?”

“I. Don’t. Know!”

Gwen suddenly smiled. “You have super powers!”

“What?”

“Derek, I can’t see literally anything in that alley past here. You instantly flipped and stuck to the ceiling of the greenhouse. You have perfect reflexes; in fact, probably the best in the world. That biker came hurling down that sidewalk. We would’ve been hit for sure. That bug really did turn you into some kind of bizarre vampire.”

Millions of thoughts crossed my mind. It was like I knew all along I had these powers, some sense in my head guiding me to the answers. I fixated thoughtfully at the black rails of a fire escape above me. 

“Gwen, what would you think if I suddenly leapt multiple stories onto that railing?”

“I think you should try.”

Without getting a smidge of a running start, my legs whooshed into the air, my body flipping multiple times before landing perfectly on black stairs. 

“Wow.” said both of us at once. 

\---

“Hey Derek, Detective Stacy called just a couple minutes ago. They don’t have any leads except the killer’s profile, and this new dilemma with people being poisoned is making them busier. That’s not what either of us what to hear, but I just wanted to let you know.”

“It’s okay, Ben.” I said over the phone. “Also- hey, I’m going to be out with friends tonight again. It’s not anything dangerous.”

“Oh, okay Derek, but what about-”

“I’m feeling a lot better than I did last night. I think it passed.”

“Well alright then. But... stay safe.”

“I will. I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. Love you.” I hung up and slid my phone into my backpack, my sunglasses hid next to it, standing on the roof of our apartment building. I could feel a strong breeze wiping across my face. I jumped and turned around excitedly, accidentally hitting my backpack and knocking it to the edge of the roof, my phone then sliding out of the side pocket and into the air. I reached out ima futile attempt to catch it- except, I hung onto a thick string protruding from my wrist, clutching my phone by ending in a small web. 

I immediately took a notebook out, deciding to write down every bizarre thing that mutant bug graced me with. Night vision, hearing well, seeing well… good reflexes, jumping, climbing walls… and now, webs. Some of them almost sounded cool. 

Now, I leaned over the edge of the roof, looking down at the alleys underneath which I could see perfectly. 

I backed up to the other end and ran faster than I ever could. Well before the edge I leaped into the air, practically soaring. I stuck a 10/10 landing, rolled, and immediately long-jumped again, reaching the next roof. Alternating between jumping and sprinting, I made my way down the block. I gave another jump, lifting myself probably twenty feet in the air. 

“Whooooo!” I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The next building had a tall TV antenna, with springy and spiky cables sticking out of it. 

“Alright.” I held out my arm, pointing directly at it. Nothing. I then held down my middle and ring finger, flicking my hand forward as if the extra momentum would help.

It did. Another web string slid out of my wrist, and I leapt to the next building clutching it like a jungle vine.

I reached the end of the block, approaching the thin border between apartment and city. Seeing the glass buildings’ reflection, the ads on facades, speeding cars and bustling shops, I knew I could never escape light; the city carried it everywhere. But in my moment, they didn’t affect me. I stood, uncaring of the light, feeling the pinnacle of my last five days, understanding the reason I changed.

Relations with my aunt and uncle were never perfect, but recently they had hit an all time low with May. School was a void of life. I had switched my days onto auto-pilot, wanting to graduate but still wanting to do nothing. And I never did anything to improve that. I was waiting for some celestial sign, some magical force to fix my problems with my family. To make me give a damn again. Her death made me realize, however, that life doesn’t wait for you to fix your problems. You have to get off your ass and solve them. 

I accepted who I’ve become… but there was still a long way to go before I could be the change the city needs. 


	4. Issue #4: Lightning

I stopped to listen to today’s 8 A.M. news report, leaning against the wall and hunching.

“To discuss Tuesday night’s incident, we have Yuriko Watanabe with us again! She’s the youngest female detective in the city, AND she’s Japanese! Let’s hear from you, Yuriko, about the poisoning that happened last Tuesday!”

“Unfortunately, I cannot reveal any details of last night at this time. I do, however, want to clear up speculations from when I was interviewed yesterday. I do not think the Firefall Killer and the person poisoning others are connected. The poisons DID arise directly after the first murder, then occured every day the murders don’t. Both have a certain… theme with they way the victims’ lives are taken.”

“And what are those themes?”

Yuriko chuckled, seemingly enjoying the hasty questions the reporter chose. “I’d rather not describe the grotesque scenes of murder. My point is, both deserve an equal amount of attention. The poisoner is a copycat, relying on the attention of Thursday for the same effect. One person has lost their life on Saturday, Sunday, and now, which was never covered until recently. People like you viewers should not be afraid, but should stay vigilant, because fear is how more serial killers will originate.”

\---

Today, March 12th, I forwent my sunglasses and faced the sickening daylight head on. I was determined to learn how to deal with my weakness. The kid who argued with the teacher yesterday leaned next to the front doors of the school, side-eyeing me as I passed. I wasn’t gonna tell anyone, I swear...

In a slightly more bearable first period, the intercom rang. “Yuriko Watanabe, please come to the principal’s office. Yuriko Watanabe, please come to the principal’s office.”

“Hey, that’s the girl on the news!” - “She’s so high and mighty. It pisses me off.” - “I wonder what it’s like being a girl on the police force.” were exchanges I heard from the corner of classrooms to the edges of hallways during lunch, where Gwen Stacy stood, unsurprisingly, next to my locker. 

“So? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to pursue the guy who murdered Aunt May.”

Last night, Gwen and I made a sort of pact. With my powers I could easily take down criminals, but I would commit myself to an entirely new world. A certain someone gave me the determination I needed to make my choice.

“Aunt May?” asked Gwen incredulously. “But- no one knows anything about him! My dad has his ass exposed to the media trying to find a lead! All we have are gingers, a knife cut, and your description-“

“I’m not lying!”

“I know!”

“So what are you saying? The media’s going to call me a liar?”

“No!” Gwen looked like she had a frog in her throat. “I just thought- start with saving people getting mugged, and assaulted, until we can figure out more.”

“The unknown isn’t going to stop me from looking.”

“Derek, there’s three, _three_ criminals terrorizing New York, two of them serial killers taking a life every day. This city has gone to hell. Please… don’t make everyone think you’re a fourth. For me- get on the TV’s good side, be someone people can look up to, a man who can make them feel safe. I really believe in you, Derek. You have a great power, but that should come with a great responsibility: to protect others while you seek out your justice.”

Wow… if her words were physical assaults, I would have been knocked through every wall in this school by now. “Fine. I still need to get used to my powers, too.” 

I was jealous of a camera which, with special specs, could see just as well at night as I could. I was also jealous of normal people who could actually see during the daytime.

“Is the next stakeout still at that clothes store?”

“Yeah,” Gwen answered, “But I want to also check out the greenhouse one last time. Judging from Dad, the outages are practically pushed under the rug now.” 

I sighed. “What’s your plan?”

“We need a third set of eyes.”

“And who’s exactly would those be? You know how bizarre literally any of this would sound to anyone else?”

“I think I know one guy up for it.”

“And who-” I began to ask, but Gwen already set her sights on some destination within the school, requiring me to follow close behind. 

We reached another strip of lockers, where a kid slouched against one, alone, with a red windbreaker jacket. 

“Hey, it’s that guy!” 

“Who?”

“I- nevermind.”

The kid looked up as we got closer, judging us. 

“Hi, Miles.” waved Gwen.

“Hey…” muttered the kid apparently named Miles. 

“What happened with the fight Tuesday?”

“Not expelled.”

“Well that’s...good.” replied Gwen awkwardly.

I looked back and forth and Miles and her. “How the heck do you know each other?”

“We’ve known each other since elementary school.” said Gwen, still shuffling in place.

Miles peeled his back off the locker. “What do you want.”

Gwen and I shot each other a glance. I hoped my attempts at telepathy would tell her this was her idea. 

“Can we go to the roof?” she asked Miles. 

“Wait, what-“ I tried to intervene, but he had already replied with a stoic “yeah.” Now we followed him up the stairs and to a clearly off-limit door. 

Gwen discreetly handed Miles a hairpin, who then crouched down and picked the door, blocked from view with our bodies. 

\---

“You’re right that it sounds insane.” Miles said, his head slouching. We had told him about the murders, about the fireflies, about the greenhouse. If that was insane, just wait until he heard about me….

I had my head pointed directly at the gravel floor of the roof, avoiding the blinding sphere of sky all around me. It took everything I had to look up from time to time, squinting.

“So will you do it?” queried Gwen. 

“Yeah.” said Miles. “But why me? Just ‘cause of my record here?”

Gwen shook her head. “I thought you’d enjoy something like this. Like how we did those ‘Elementary Mysteries’ years ago.”

I could’ve sworn a small a miniscule crack of a smile emerged from Miles’s face. “Yeah, it’s interesting… wack though. People are getting murdered here.”

“So what are we gonna do?” I asked the two of them, mostly looking at Gwen the plan-lady. 

“Miles- you go watch the greenhouse. You can stakeout on the roof of one of the apartment buildings. Derek and I will watch the store. Then we can just tell each other if we see anything and investigate later in the evening. Let’s all go after school.”

“I’ll go right now.” said Miles.

“Now? We still have half of school left-”

Miles shrugged. “Nothing important. I’ll see you guys in the evening. Same number, right?” he asked over his shoulder as he opened the door to go downstairs, giving a peace sign as it closed behind him. 

A small sigh later and Gwen walked up to my face. “The light’s still bothering you, isn’t it?”

No point in denying the fact. “I’ve been pretending like it doesn’t bother me, but I still can’t look directly at these bright lights without cringing. If I’m really going to become this figure of justice like you say, I really don’t know how I’m going to do it during daytime. Even lights at night bother me.”

She contemplated for an unfairly short moment, coming up with some solution already. “I think I know how we can fix that. Give me until after school.”

\---

More uneventful periods later led me to my classic purple locker and teeny-tiny mirror I’ve been seeing so much of lately. The closing of my locker door summoned Gwen, except she walked with a lanky guy down the hallway.

“Hey, Derek,” she said. “This is the guy that’s gonna help you. His name is Harry Osborn.”

“How do you know _him?!”_

“He’s from my advanced chemistry class. He’s a genius honestly.”

Harry stared off into space, untalkative. He was surprisingly good-looking for someone who I never knew existed until now, plus his wrinkled green t-shirt and uncombed, wavy hair.

“He also invents stuff. I’ve heard rumors and the like but I honestly think it’s fascinating. Anyways, I asked if he could make something for us. I haven’t told him what that is yet.”

“Well, Harry, I need some goggles or something that can help darken pretty much all light. Sunglasses don’t work. Right now it hurts to see.”

Harry took several seconds before he recognized my voice and moved his face. “Yes. I can do that. There’s a discontinued project on lenses in my mother’s lab that help reduce sensitivity to light. I’ll work on that.”

“Um, ok… thanks, I-”

“Tomorrow.” said Harry.

“What?”  
“I will bring it tomorrow.” He then turned around and left. 

I had raised my eyebrows but Gwen almost looked at him pityingly. 

“What’s his deal?”

“Like I said, there’s rumors.” she said. “He really doesn’t deserve them, though. He’s never caused anyone trouble. Time to go?”

\---

We walked down the concrete steps onto the busy sidewalk. I had seen a quick shot of Flash from far off, staring at us. I really hoped I wasn’t going to cause Gwen any trouble. Nonetheless, right now she was the only one I could really talk to.

“Hey, Gwen. Any reason you didn’t want to tell Miles about my awesome powers?”

“Considering you didn’t either, you must have the same reasons. Eventually having allies will be a good thing, but I think the less people that know right now about your powers, the better.”

“True, true. Hey, so whatever happened with that gun?”

“I still have it.”

“Right now?!”

“Right now. In my backpack.”

“And what the hell are you going to do if someone besides you looks in there?!”

“I don’t think people are going to be suspicious of a pink, friendly white girl’s backpack. And its unarmed in a black protective case. Its for emergencies only.”

“Okay then…”

Gwen pulled out her phone. “The next spot is pretty far from here. Let me make sure I can still pay with- oh! There’s a new podcast out…”

“Uhhh… for what?”

“Just the Facts.”

“No way, you listen to _him_?”

“I don’t agree with him. I just like how he tells things for what they are. When I was a little younger, I would tune in so I could know things my dad didn’t want me to see or hear…. Okay, time to call a cab.”

In the backseat of the taxi, Gwen pulled out her earbuds giving one end to me. I had to hold it away from my ear because the volume she needed was somehow too loud for me. She started the podcast:

_“Welcome to Just the Facts with J. Jonah Jameson- alright people, I got a lot to say, because a lot’s happened. ONE: Apparently the police JUST found another body in an alleyway dumpster killed yesterday, with pretty little fireflies dancing around it! TWO: some clothes store, Fran- Flare- some irrelevant name just had its power snatched, and now we have even more angry customers to deal with on your next shopping spree. THREE: Some doctor’s been poisoned, sitting down in his lab like he was about to drink and have a smoke. Now, some prissy detective has said none of these are connected, but I think they DO have a connection: this city… is. In. Hell!!! Now, I’m sure I’ll get some callers asking me what to do in a situation like this, so let me stop you there by educating all of you…”_

We stepped onto a sidewalk lined with shops. I almost laughed at the podcast, even if the terrible things he mentioned actually happened. 

“Change of plans,” said Gwen, rolling up her earbuds and stuffing them into the backpack she brought with her. 

“Oh yeah- that’s right. If the outage already occured, then-”

Gwen sighed and pulled out her map, even more ruffled than last time. She also took out a marker, following the line she drew and uncapping it to draw a circle around another place. “We’re almost at the Hudson River. If the culprit kept going the next place would be in water. So they’re probably going to turn over into the next street and… here. Best bet is the Museum of Modern Art. We keep going further north.”

“An outage just happened. Do you still want to try checking it out?”

“Yes. If there’s a chance I’m going to go through with it. Going to have to call another taxi, though…”

\---

We sat on my third destination of the day, a roof overlooking the museum’s entrance, noticing all kinds of people - and tourists - entering and exiting. Gwen ended up doing most of the scouting as I hung in the back corner, practicing shooting webs out of my wrists. I managed to make most of the strands hit the roofs of other buildings, hopefully minimizing the collateral damage. The sensation of strings shooting out of my wrist would take some getting used to: right now, it felt like an ice cube moving down my arm and bursting out under my palm. Red circles had appeared next to the source, too, my guess from the constant strain of a completely exotic feature in my body. 

An hour or two passed as we still sat underneath a setting sun. Lights slowly popped up everywhere from street lamps to windows to headlights on cars. The stress on my head lessened, allowing me to look up at the sky and simply enjoy the view. So much had happened this week, yet time continued to skate by in a blur. 

Emotional trains of thought burst when Gwen’s phone buzzed. She put it on speaker, and I signaled to her that I could still hear despite being dozens of feet away. 

“Hey guys,” said Miles’s processed voice. “Nothing’s happened for hours, but now some dude is walking in with all black clothes and a ski mask, so it’s pretty obvious that something's going to happen now.”

Gwen lowered her head to the phone. “Did you happen to check the inside before?”

“Yah. I was curious. Might’ve saw those fireflies you mentioned. The guy’s still in there.”

“Okay Miles, follow him and tell us where he goes. We’ll meet you and-”

“I’m going in after him.”

Gwen gasped into her phone. “Wait! Miles, that’s the freaking killer-”

“I know,” said Miles, his voice muffled by the sound of clanging metal and hard footsteps. There's no way he just jumped down the side of a building-

“He’s gone.”

“What?!”

“The dude straight up vanished. He’s outta here. Took the fireflies and left.”

Gwen’s head turned and I saw a face of panic. “How? There wasn’t any other exit in that greenhouse when we were there!” 

I shrugged. 

“You guys still at that store?” asked Miles. 

“No- an outage there happened earlier today before we could get there. We’re at the MoMA now.”

“Cool. I’ll head over there-”

“No. Meet us at Joe’s Diner by you. I’m done for tonight.” She definitely sounded defeated. 

“Alright. Seeya.” Miles hung up, and Gwen picked herself off the edge of the roof, brushing rocks off her clothes. 

“Sure you don’t want to wait just a couple more minutes?” 

“No, I’m done. Really.” She paused brushing off her leggings and whined.

“Wha’ happen?”

“We’re going to have to get another taxi back, and this trip will be even longer…”

“I’ll pay. I still got Christmas money stuffed somewhere in my pack.” A wild idea sprouted in mind involving travelling by rooftops instead of car, but then I remembered all the people that could see me in this gigantic city. 

After putting down Gwen’s insistings to pay as we got in the taxi, a following quiet car ride, then finding Miles in a sea of tables, the three of us enjoyed a completely unhealthy dinner of the fried chickens and the macaroni and cheeses. 

First Miles had slammed his fist on the table, still full of adrenaline that didn’t get to see a purpose. Gwen shared her disappointment, staring at her glass of water instead 

“I gotta say,” said Miles through a mouthful of food. “Controlling a herd of fireflies like that is pretty damn cool.”

“‘Herd,” huh?” I replied. “I wonder what a group of fireflies is even called.”

Miles shook his head and picked his fork back up.

“Colony, family, swarm… it’s probably just swarm.” I muttered to myself, the other two people at my table having none of it. “Or a smack.”

Gwen’s drink bubbled as she stifled a laugh. “Sorry.” she added to an antagonizing old woman at the table next to us. 

Even though I practically never talked to people, here I was eager to continue the conversation. Not only was I eating actual food instead of granola bars and chips, I was eating with actual people besides my family. “Well… how do you think someone would train a firefly?”

Miles gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t know, man.”

“Come on,” I teased. “You know you wanna know. You’re the one who proposed the idea of bugs being controlled.”

“Fine. Trapping them with those bug zapper things.”

“My guess is spraying chemicals.” I said.

“Micro-microchips.” added Miles, lighting up a little.

“Interesting. What do you think, Gwen?” I caught her in the middle of her picking up food. 

“What I want to know,” she said, dramatically setting down her fork. “Is how the killer got out of that greenhouse.”

“There might be some secret trapdoor or something. With everything that’s happened I wouldn’t doubt it.” I replied. “We could even check it out tomorrow. Wow… how many days in a row would that make it?”

“I don’t know… even if we figure out how, it doesn’t help in the grand scheme of things. I think I’m already starting to get tired of trying to solve this. The detectives are on it, like that one girl from our school. They already have as much as we do, probably more.”

“Ah, come on. Gwen, the fact that you’ve figured out just as much as the police on your own says a lot. That whole map thing - you’re a genius.”

Gwen played with her food. “I just… want something to happen.”

The same bizarre thoughts resurfaced. “Something can happen. Starting tomorrow after a little help.”

She pondered for a second, then “oh!”ed in realization.

“What are you two talking about?” asked a slightly annoyed Miles. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Earlier you mentioned a girl in our high school… that Yuriko or whatever, right? Anyways, I’m gonna go. See you, Gwen.” He slapped a five dollar bill on the table then promptly left. 

Gwen pouted. “That’s not nearly enough for his…oh well.”

We passed through the diner’s door into the night, illuminated by my own eyes. We stayed in place for a second, looking around at the million things happening at once. 

“I don’t think your friend likes me very much.” I said to Gwen, both of us still gazing. “How were you even able to become friends with him?”

“My dad, when he was just a cop, helped his parents with a really rough situation. I think it slowly became something he wanted to do, rather than a part of his job. When he went over to their house, I usually came with, and Miles and I played together. We went to the same elementary school, so after the whole ordeal we could still be friends.”

“I’m guessing you guys grew apart?”

“Yeah…that’s what happens when middle school starts and you worry about everyone else. I’m glad I can still talk to him, even if we’re nowhere as close.”

“Did he always get into trouble?” I felt bad for asking behind Miles’s back, but my curiosity wanted to be satiated. 

“That, too. In his defense, he’s almost always the one provoked. I know he shouldn’t, but that’s just how he deals with things. Hey, I’m walking home. I refuse to spend another cent on transportation as long as I live.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.” I ran into a nearby alley, making sure nobody could lay their eyes on me, and shot a web up to the roof. My method for traveling back home included me repeating the process, shooting myself across roofs and listening to the occasional passing of sirens. 

When I opened the door to Ben’s apartment, I found him and Detective Stacy sitting across from each other. Both stared at me, making me immediately feel awkward.

“Heya, Derek. Detective Stacy was updating me about the case.” Ben turned to Gwen’s father. “Could you catch him up too?”

“Well, unfortunately, the progress on identifying the Firefall Killer remains unchanged. We have, however, determined a pattern on the murderings taking place.”

“What’s the pattern?” I butted in, walking from the door to the kitchen. 

“The Firefall Killer has made a move only on weekdays. Monday, Wednesday, Friday to be exact. The other killer - the poisoner - has acted every other day of the week: the weekend, then Tuesday and Thursday. It’s unfortunate we didn’t find the body from yesterday until around the poisoned victim today. She even had a painful cut running down her arm.”

“Who was the murder victim?” asked Ben.

“Eleonore Brant. She worked for the Daily Bugle, writing stories of people in poverty and the homeless.”

“Oh my god,” said Ben. “I didn’t know her that well, but we met a couple times for certain projects. She was always so passionate about trying to do good…”

“That seemed to be the impression of other coworkers and friends as well,” replied Stacy. “We have a fairly complete profile of the killer now, too, at least: redheaded females known for doing good in the world. You obviously can’t place every one in New York under police protection, but now we know who could be the next victim. And on what day.

“The daily trend was actually proposed by that young girl in the Chinatown department. She covered those weekend poisonings before most of us even got wind. You can see how she’s already in my position at her age. But thanks to the news, now everyone else knows about the trend, too, with one falling on tomorrow. The city’s on edge, especially regarding the date tomorrow… well, I’ll be going. Be careful out on the streets.”

Gwen’s dad brushed past me and passed out into the hallway. 

“Everything alright tonight, Derek?” asked Ben as the clunk of boots faded. 

“Yeah. I’ve actually met some people this week. We went to Joe’s earlier.”

“That’s good!” Ben smiled. “I’m glad you’re making friends. But…make sure they’re not taking advantage of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well- we just lost your aunt. I don’t want people acting like they’re with you, so they can get a spotlight for helping a victim.”

While I didn’t know much about Miles, Gwen’s motivation had evolved far beyond feeling sorry for me. “It’s okay, Ben. They’re amazing people.”

I spread out on my bed, keeping the lights off since I got in my room. 

While a murder threatened to occur in less twenty-four hours, what else was supposed to be interesting about tomorrow?

\---

I soon found out through the usual displayed TV. 

“Today, Friday the 13th. A date surrounded by superstition, yet that uneasiness is felt tenfold throughout New York City in light of the Firefall Killer. Will someone be murdered today? _Who_ will the unfortunate woman be?”

Sure enough, topics of passerby involved the anxiety of another murder or the criticism of being superstitious. A young woman with bright red hair on my side of the sidewalk swiftly passed me by, holding her head down and clutching a purse, the head of a can of mace sticking out of the top. As if nature wanted to compliment the mood, blankets of clouds nearly blocked out the sun. 

Hushed whispers audible to me flew through the school and continued passing by overhead during lunch. I turned around from my locker after grabbing a fully made sandwich (gotta get that nutrition) and nearly jumped back into it after meeting Harry centimeters from my face. 

“Here.” he said bluntly, holding out a rustic pair of goggles. 

“Er- thanks a bunch, Harry.”

“Yeah…” he replied, his eyes meeting the locker next to me. “I still don’t know why you need it, but I hope you enjoy it.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Mmhm.” Harry slightly nodded and left. 

I ducked into the closest restroom, making sure no one was hiding in the stalls, and strapped on the squarish goggled with white mesh in between a thick, black rim. Just like the pair of sunglasses, my vision didn’t darken. But when I looked at the lights above the mirror, I didn’t feel pain or overwhelming nausea. Wow, thanks Harry. This was _exactly_ what I needed.

In between my later classes, I crossed paths with Miles who gave me a stern sideways glance. Gwen’s reaction after we met after school was much more friendly, albeit very overbearing.

“So we’re really doing this. So remember, first step is to start small. Last thing we want is people thinking there’s a third murderer swinging around.”

“Swinging.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I don’t know. You haven’t actually seen me swing yet. It’s fun that you’re already in on the idea of me doing it.”

“Seriously though, Derek. Please be careful.”

“You realize I have my own thoughts and goals too.”

“I do.” Gwen smiled. “Meet me at the museum tonight, okay? I got moody last night, but now I’m coming back full force.”

“What’s Miles going to do?”

“He’s…in detention.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Well, good luck? I’m not exactly sure what to say.”

“It’s not about luck, Gwen…not about luck.” I jested.

“Mmhm. Bye.”

I walked to a sporting store and bought a black athletic long-sleeved undershirt and pants. I also grabbed the cheapest pair of black tennis shoes I could find, paying for it all with the last of my Christmas money. Probably need to start looking for that part-time job….

Hiding in another alley, I changed into the dark attire and pulled on the black shirt in my backpack over my face, the goggles going over that. One knot in the back of my head later, I then opened my mouth and cut a line with a cheap pocket knife in the gap. A puddle on the ground presented my new look to me. I didn’t look intimidating at all…people would totally be grateful I jumped into a dark alley to save their lives…

I fwipped a web to the next roof over, flipping off of mine and shooting myself across. Now I wasn’t worried if people saw me, considering the mass coverage I’d get if I actually accomplished what I wanted. My backpack leaned against the roof, a web keeping it in place with a change of clothes for later.

I landed and perched on top of a TV antenna, breathing heavily and feeling sweat on my back. Wow, was I out of shape. I occasionally did pushups and stuff at home, but this job would require pulling out that expired gym membership card. 

Thanks to a combination of my powers and the Oscorp tech, I could see not only the block underneath me, but a few more further away. It felt like a computer scanning a map of the city. 

A similar sensation from the other night instantly shot through my head, alerting me to the shrill scream of a woman three blocks away and pinointing its exact location. I swung in between the buildings, jumping after each one in the hopes of propelling me faster. Pretty sure I heard gasps and honks from underneath, but my senses were too focused on the scream. 

A man had a woman held at gunpoint outside a jewelry store, his gloved hand extended, expecting the goodies. As bad as the timing was, cheesy action movies were brought to mind where the hero always exchanges quips with the gunned villains. I _really_ wanted to test one out, now that I was in the same situation but in real life. 

“Hey bud, how are you carrying a gun? That sign that says ‘no mugging’ should’ve stopped you dead in your tracks!” I shot a string, aiming at his gun to pull it away. It took me two tries in rapid succession, but the payoff was totally worth it. Totally. I caught the gun ricocheting at my face, and the mugger began to run, the woman beside him’s eyes almost cartoonish in awe. 

Time to experiment. Another web shot; the mugger fell from his legs now wrapped in silk. I shot again with my free hand, this time pinning him against the wall more forcefully than I would have liked. He wiggled against the wall, looking like a modern art project.

Okay, now I was carrying a gun. Did not think things through. I threw the gun into the air, shooting it next to the mugger (the good kind of shoot in this instance). The dozens of passerby on either side of the street stood still, only their heads following me as I swung away, trying to play off my first act in a hopefully cool way. 

I successfully stopped a couple more small crimes, hiding in the shadows and trapping the dudes lurking in alleyways in webs. Later I perched on the same roof where Gwen and I staked out the infamous greenhouse. The killer really was using the fireflies, bringing them here in between his murders. If he was out there right now slitting the throats of innocent women, I would be here to catch him after his sick excursion. I couldn’t trust myself with what I might do if he did show up.

Hours must’ve passed: my phone buzzing in my suit brought my head up to a black sky. I answered Gwen’s call.

“Derek! All the light in the museum just shut off. It’s another outage.”

I continued to stare at the greenhouse.

“Derek. Derek, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m there. I’m coming.” It took immense force to swing away.

\---

I softly landed on the roof behind Gwen, who looked down at a museum surrounded by a chattering crowd. A couple police cars bordered it, their sirens illuminating the nearby buildings as they spun in circles. 

“This was really different from the greenhouse,” said Gwen, still fixated. “The power just went out *snap* like that. No pulsating whatsoever.” 

“It’s those fireflies.” I said bluntly. “Those mutants were messing with the lights. Here there aren’t any.”

Gwen brushed back her hair. “I’m going to investigate it. If they don’t let me inside I’ll just sneak in. I want to find-”

A single file line of police cars blared by on the street over, blue and red light interrupted by the lining buildings. I heard, from inside the police cars on the ground, a voice emanating through the radio. “Oscorp Power Plant - Battery Park - energy spike - need backup now-”

“You do your thing.” I said to a concerned Gwen. “There’s something about outages happening at Battery Park. That’s where I’m going.” She took the door to the stairs, and I hopped off, shooting a web at the building over. The night sky blended me well as I sped halfway across Manhattan. 

I managed to place myself ahead of the pursuing police cars, wanting to see the matter for myself before I interfered. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint their destination: a vast, gray factory with smokestacks flickered and brightened through its wrapping rectangular windows. 

I landed by throwing my body at the power plant’s wall, my hands sticking to it with ease. I kicked off my unsticking shoes, and luckily my black socks then matched my hands. Living in fashion with sweaty sports gear. I crawled along the side until I reached a window, peering inside. 

The person in there won tonight’s contest of weirdest crap I could see. A woman floated in the air, wires hanging off of her back and trailing on the ground behind her. A thin, sleek black mask stretched across her eyes, black triangles revealing yellow irises. Long ash blonde hair bounced around from the shots of lightning being absorbed into her arms. I said that right: electricity from the blinking machines and wires down under escaped from their bodies, traveling into black cylinder’s attached on the woman’s arms. All in the form of yellow bolts of lightning. 

Well, I found the culprit of the power outages. She must’ve zapped all the other places Gwen and I checked out. Oh, I could NOT wait for her reaction. I had to stop this sparkly woman.

I’m not sure how I autonomously reached that conclusion, but I knew the police would struggle with this one. No way could guns could stop whatever trick she had up her sleeves- literally. Gwen’s cheesy line about responsibility played in the back of my head like an old black and white movie. Somewhere in my body, a wellspring of selflessness emerged. Perhaps this was a product of my newer mature thoughts dealing with death for the first time, and now fate allowed me to act on them. 

With my recent profound knowledge of roof anatomy, I managed to scrape open a metal slab on the roof, providing me with a rusty ladder downwards. I jumped onto a copper catwalk which overlooked the lightshow. She was right there…

Not knowing how to act, I threw a stray metal pipe with my webs directly at her head. 

“Agh! What the-” 

I perched on a machine in front of her, hesitant. 

“Who the hell are you?!” she asked ferociously, stopping her power draining and shooting a jolt my way. It traveled fast, but that sensation in my head told me that ahead of time helping me leap out of the way. I ran out of factory space, clinging to the wall. I ended up leaping off and clinging to another spot another couple times as more bolts crashed into pillars and panels beside me. 

“I could ask you the same thing, lady!” I yelled, swinging and clinging for dear life. My black suit was bathed in red light from all the machines - some from the emergency, some just ominously glowing that way. But when I landed close to them - in the .5 or .25 seconds I had to myself - that they hummed with power. And when I leapt away, they sunk back down. Just like with the mutants….

“I’M stealing power from the city, the reason currently being so I can zap you harder.” retaliated the woman. 

“Well Sparky - Sparkess? - that’s kind of a big no-no. You’ve been causing the city and more importantly my friend a lot of turmoil.” I shot an eagle-eyed web onto her right brace. Unfortunately, she revved up the power and practically dissolved my weapon. 

Yellow light brushed by my face. I could feel the stinging heat pass by. “You’ve got quite the tongue. I love it!” I heard from somewhere.

“I’m...glad?” said I, while shooting more webs at her suit in midair. 

“Seems odd I’m meeting some debuting hero with actual superpowers! There’s actual killers out there right now, you know. I’m just an innocent lady wanting to power my house.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve met anyone like you before either! No, you haven’t killed, but you’ve caused more damage than you’ve realized. Or maybe you are aware of it. I’m going to let the city breathe, even if danger still lurks over its head.”

I needed some way to surprise her. New idea- I spun around a support beam and flung myself directly at her, right foot out. I heard a gasp as I landed a blow, but my foot caught some of the electricity. I fell to the ground. 

A stream of lightning struck north of my falling body, breaking the catwalk above me. Chunks and spears of metal hurled down after me. I held up my arms, in a desperate attempt to survive I knew would never work. 

Except, it did. My arms still hung out, stopping a sheet of steel from crushing my beautiful body. New power. Cool. I flipped upright, throwing the sheet with the momentum at the woman. 

She flew to the side to dodge, once again attempting to hit me as I swung back up to the higher floors. She struck another weak spot, causing the pole I perched on to groan as it dropped toward her. In slow motion, I fell right in front of her face. Not knowing how to act, I shot a ball of web right onto it.

The lady screamed, trying to peel it off. “Get it- OFFF!!” She danced in the air, clutching her face. I knew she couldn’t zap it off without hurting herself. I flung forward and landed on her back, ripping out the hanging wires. Her arm braces went dull; we both dropped. I grabbed her waist, shooting at a sturdier platform and pulling to bring us both there. My hands shook as I tried to tie her up, still screaming and shaking her head. 

“H-hold still!” I held up my arms then quickly realized she couldn’t see my gesture. I slowly clasped the edges of the mass of silk, peeling it off her face. These webs were hardy as the steel beams in this dump, yet I was able to pull them off. She gasped for air, a face of desperation turning to anger when her senses returned. 

“You piece of - what did you - let me gooooo!” 

“I’m sorry for that. Really. But I can’t let you go.”

The police’s sirens sounded right outside the giant doors to the power plant. Time to skedaddle. I climbed out onto the roof, peeking over. Cars with sirens huddled together in front of the plant like fans at a rock concert. Men in blue suits were already piling out and slamming doors shut, carrying pistols in front of them as they inched forward. 

A white spotlight broke through the redness from the sirens and factory windows belonging to an arriving helicopter. Mega time to skedaddle. The sensation in my head told me jumping off of this roof and swinging away would not be a good idea, attracting far too much attention amidst the plethora of lights. 

I began to crawl down the side opposite of the commotion, carefully avoiding the lines of illuminating windows. It worked, until a circle of light encased my body halfway down.

“Do not move!” sounded a speaker from the helicopter. “Tampering with city power alone gives you years in jail! If you don’t want life, follow our instructions-”

Nuh-uh. I lept off the wall onto the corner of the power plant, now quickly crawling away from the chasing spotlight. On the darkest side of the building, I shot myself between the closest nearby buildings, hauling my booty away from trouble. 

I snatched my backpack, then landed on top of my apartment building, changing into my normal clothes and stashing my “suit” inside the stretchable undershirt, sticking and hiding it. I needed to get my story straight with the city eventually, but I wasn’t going to deal with anyone tonight. 


	5. Issue #5: Bulb

I didn't wake up until 2:00 PM. My body  _ sunk  _ into that mattress. Now, when I tried to peel myself off the bed, my left side begged for mercy. I pulled my skin to the right, revealing a thin, bloody red line that hurt like hell. One shot of lightning must have grazed me, my adrenaline-filled body not noticing until now. 

Ben still worked on Saturdays, leaving me to bet on whether or not he was currently in the apartment. I had another query, though, that was actually a higher priority. Wincing, I rolled my legs off the bed and climbed to the bedroom door. Half of the muscles in my body, at least two, groaned from soreness. I hobbled past the bathroom into the closet where boxes from the old apartment piled against the walls. I dug into a couple, finally pulling out a carton of lightbulbs and taking out a single one.

The bulb rolled back and forth in my palm. My half-asleep brain questioned what I was about to try. I shifted the bulb so that my thumb and middle fingers could clasp onto the bottom. 

It turned on. I set it on the cardboard. It turned off. My fingers clasped and unclasped like an arcade claw machine. Without fail, they gave power to the bulb whenever they touched. 

But what if…I didn’t want to give power? I touched with the idea of denial in my slouchy mind. No light. New superpower. 

I took the lightbulb with me back to my bed, the free hand clutching my side. A couple more steps and… my body fell back into the warmth and comfort of a standard full sized mattress. 

\---

A slam of a door woke me up a little later. Ben must’ve come back home, except I heard more than two footsteps.

“I still don’t understand why-” came Ben’s voice.

“I’ll explain later, Mr. Driver. Right now I really need to see him.” came another one I recognized. Hurried footsteps approached my door which swung open.

“I figured,” said Gwen, staring down at my sheets. She looked over her shoulder then closed the door. 

“That’d I be asleep?” I asked, wincing as I tried to sit up.

“Yes,” she replied. “And also that you’d be hurt. Oscorp’s main power plant is thrashed through and through. Half of Greenwich and beyond still doesn’t have power.”

“I didn’t want-”

“I know.” She then tilted her head at the lightbulb rolling out from beside me. “Um, why?”

I pressed on it, the bulb lighting up for her to see. I did it a couple more times for my own enjoyment mostly as she stared dumbfounded. “The fireflies…” I tried to explain, still possessing a groggy consciousness. 

“Right.” 

A couple vigorous shakes of my head later and I was able to form a full response. “What made you come here?” 

“Our main killer.”

“So I’m guessing he got someone?”

“Two. Two in one day. Can’t help but think the killer played into the superstition.” She took a seat in my desk chair next to my bed.

I stared unfocused at some random place in my bedroom. “That’s…”

“When the power came back on in the museum, a body was hanging from one of the light fixtures. The entire place was filled with fireflies. I was unfortunately one of the first ones to see it.”

“Sorry you had to see that. What was the other?” 

“A woman laying down in a jewelry store. She wasn’t discovered until early this morning.”

“Fireflies there, too?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What did they call them again? Corpse Flares?”

“Corpse Fires.”

“That just sounds so… I don’t know. Edgy, I guess.” Both of us chuckled softly. “Speaking of the news, what did they say?” I wanted to know the opinion of the news channels I saw every morning, yet the thought of them now sparked a different feeling...

“Well, they _ think _ you’re another criminal. You shouldn’t have fled.”

“So stay and get arrested on my first day? Hard to get off your feet after that.”

“If you explained what happened-”

“Doubt it. They weren’t in the patiently-wait-then-let-you-go kinda mood.”

“You’re going to have the city paint you as another bad guy before you can even get out of bed! You’re really going to let them do that? My dad - maybe even that Yuriko girl - can help you-”

“Gwen, I know myself pretty well. I don’t think I’m ever going to get on the media’s good side. Especially when it comes down to the source of all this mess.”

“Maybe it will come indirectly,” she said. “Wait for that opportunity to help, and accept whatever punishments or praises come after.”

“Ugh. Maybe… I think at the moment I just need to worry about staying on  _ my _ good side, if you can pick up what I’m putting down.” I said as I leaned over, clutching my left waist. 

Gwen showed some discomfort at the sign of my injury. I was wearing pajama pants so it wasn’t because of… nevermind. “I guess she got you pretty good.” she noted.

“Yeah… you know anything about her?”

“Well, the Bugle had talked about her-”

“I don’t want to listen to the news again.” The daily, sickening idea of blue light didn’t sit well with me at the moment. “Tell me what you know from your dad, even your own thoughts.” 

She adjusted in the desk chair, the old cheap piece of furniture squeaking and clacking from the slightest movement. “Okay. Her name is something like Maxine Delaney, I don’t really know anything about what she does, but she told the NYPD that she was basically stealing power for the fun of it. She also insisted to be called ‘Electro.’”

“She told me she wanted to ‘power her house.’”

“If that’s true, it still amounts to barely nothing compared to the other most-wanted. The most interesting thing though is  _ how _ she was stealing power. That technology is advanced. Like Oscorp advanced. Of course, rumors are going around now that Oscorp supplied her that suit. But then why steal their power? Anyways…I’m glad the outages have come to a close.”

“We’re going to have to find a new hobby after school, aren’t we?”

I made her smile. “Yeah, haha, we are.”

“I liked that map of yours.”

“I still have it here.” She pulled the map hit by a magnitude 9.0 crumble out of the black jeans she wore today. Purple and black shapes covered the majority of it. “There’s something else I want to do with it, but I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“So Monday at my locker?”

“Mayyyybe.” She stared at her map a little longer, her expression turning gloomier. “There’s one more thing I forgot to mention about the killer.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“The people cut yesterday… they had gashes on their legs, one on the left and one on the right. You put that together with the other bodies since Mary Jane Watson… it makes a macabre hangman.”

I thought about the ones I previously knew about. The image definitely fit. “Was it that girl who goes to our school who figured that out as well?”

“No, it was actually my dad’s team.” she said cheerfully. “I know it doesn’t take a genius to figure out stuff like that, but still.”

“What body part is even left? The head?”

“I’m not sure I even want to think about that…”

“And then what happens after he runs out?” I asked the room temperature air. 

We sat in silence for a tiny bit, until Gwen groaned and slammed her head into her hands. 

“What?”

“I forgot about the chemistry test we had on Monday. It combines my least favorite topics, too… Maybe I’ll ask Harry if he can help me before school.”

“Are you already friends with him?”

“No, but asking him still wouldn’t hurt.” Gwen stood up and began walking to the bedroom door. 

“-If someone does ask me about the whole superhero thing, what do I say?”

She stopped. “Hmmm. With the lightbulb incident I just witnessed, how about ‘I want to become a light for the city, shining the way to the truth.’”

“Wow. No. That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard. And also, ‘truth?’”

“Yeah, you know, who people should really be angry at and all that jazz. But you say what you want, you are you after all.”

The door closed behind her, and I heard a muffled conversation involving Gwen explaining she was my friend. 

Wow. 4:30 PM. I really should get up.

\---

Unfortunately, the searing pain limited what I could do Saturday evening. I hugged the couch, trying to finish up a dumb take-home essay for my english class. In comparison to Gwen’s workload, my classes felt like elementary beginner courses. I struggled with cumulative science, much less advanced chemistry. The last hundred words or so of my essay were a product of my do-not-care attitude and my amazing skills at BSing. 

Ben looked at the Bugle’s newspaper at - guess where - the kitchen table. When he wasn’t scanning for his articles or pictures he actually read the rest of the paper, another thing involving his job that never sat right with me or May. He read the articles published by the people forcing him overtime, but if he enjoyed holding out that newspaper then I shouldn’t stop him. 

“Have you taken any more fun pictures?” I asked over the couch. 

“I wouldn’t call most of it fun, but I got to cover an artist making sculptures out of green materials by taking pictures of the ones scattered throughout the city. There’s also some local interpretive dance group becoming popular, and the Bugle wanted me - an old man who took a month to understand what ‘LOL’ means - to capture one of the group’s shows.”

“Interesting… what was your opinion of it? On a scale of 1-10, go.”

“Six.” replied Ben. “Although like I said, there’s a bunch I probably don’t understand involving their methods.”

“Wowwwww, six. Harsh indeed.” I continued to try to talk about other small things in life, like what he ate now, coworkers, the fact that being in his late forties did not equate to great-grandpa, stuff like that. 

“Well Ben, I think I’m going to bed. LOL- lots of love.”

“You’ve only been awake for six hours! And don’t try to fool me, that’s not what LOL usually means!”

“You’re right on both. Good night. LOL- lots of lethargy.”

\---

I perched on top of the apartment complex wearing my  _ very _ work-in-progress homemade suit. 

Sunday, March 15th. Yesterday and later today, someone would most likely drink a cup of poison. Today was also Ben’s day off, yet he left the apartment anyways to find new sculptures. My searing pain also left…somewhat. As long as I wasn’t put under another stressful, life-threatening situation this evening, the burn should heal fine. 

A single day in bed already left me far behind in the events of the city. I’d have to spend a lot of time swinging about to get myself up to speed. Luckily, I had Gwen to help me now instead of having to rely on listening to television. 

My scan of Midtown for crime yielded nothing. That meant I now had more time to watch the greenhouse, crouching on the roof for any sign of the murderer. 

The annoying revving and screeching of a sports car interrupted my gaze, speeding down the street over. A couple seconds later, the sound of sirens picked up, a line of police cars in pursuit. I admittedly felt annoyed for having to leave, just like on Friday evening. 

I lept off the roof, following the car trail by flipping between multiple-story buildings. The black-and-orange sports car cut onto the horizontal street in front me. Cool. I stuck to the side of the nearest building, waiting for the car to pass underneath me. The hunk of metal sped through; I fwipped both arms, attaching two strings to the back of the car and zipping me to it. 

The car quickly swerved to each side, most likely reacting to a dude falling on top. From the trunk, a high pitched scream shot through. Oh crap. My feet sticking to the bumper, I pulled with both arms on the bottom, breaking some existing lock and lifting it up to reveal a little girl with a jumper cable wrapped around her torso. Some movement occured in the driver’s seat, but I had jumped sideways onto the sidewalk, gently letting down the girl I had picked up. Thanks to my new profound strength, I managed to quickly pull apart the cable, proceeding to get a running start and swinging back onto the assailing vehicle.

Now two figures bumped around in the front, a head in the passenger’s window popping out with a gun. I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. Double crap. My double sense - another work-in-progress for the tingling sensation in my head - helped me dodge by sticking my body to the car’s driver side. Another gun stuck out the driver’s window - one more dodge by flipping onto the top. 

The irritated bald headed driver began to pull more of his body out of the window- well, until the car passed a pothole, causing the three of us New York citizens to spiral in a cloud of steam. I took a really long leap, placing me ahead of the out-of-control car. 

Okay, no problem, Derek. I did this every day. I gripped the road with my sticky socks as hard as I could and then thrusted the top of my body forward, catching the hood of the car which flipped up and slowly oomphed back down onto the asphalt. The two dazed kidnappers were then stuck to the respective car doors with a web. 

Police cars caught up to the scene, doors opening and shutting as officers got out, some apprehensively pointing a gun at me. None of them said anything; I really wished they said something. I had no idea how they wanted me to react.

“Um, hi officers?” I said, my hands raised a quarter of the way. The cops continued to shuffle forward, a serious looking one in front coming over and peering sideways into the car with the groaning men. A couple more officers behind him stared into the still-open trunk. 

“You did this?” he asked, still starting at the webbed driver.

“I uh, yeah.”

“You mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“I guess….sir?” Guns still pointed my direction, my answers weren’t as cool and collected as I would’ve liked them to be. 

The serious cop set his gun in his belt and replaced with a notepad. “So…you somehow noticed the kidnappers and dropped down onto to their car, then dealt with them…how exactly?”

“With my webs.”

“Excuse me?”

“My… webs.” I tried to shoot a string onto the road softly as I could. 

The cop’s eyebrows lowered, obviously thinking very hard about this turn of events. “And how, er, do you do that?”

“It’s one of my powers.”

“Powers?”

“Yeah. Superpowers. Like in the comics about the dudes with the capes?”

“I’d like to… bring you in for questioning. You might’ve saved a kidnapping victim, but you haven’t exactly answered yet for your excursion at Oscorp’s power plant.”

“Sorry officer, but I’d really rather not.”

“Sorry?”

“I know this doesn’t exactly put me on your good side, but I really want to protect my identity for as long as I can.”

A deep voice broke through the huddled masses of people lining the sidewalks. “ _ Hey, he’s innocent! _ ” A middle-aged man ran in front of the mass, waving his arms. Next to him silently hunched the little girl I just saved. “ _ He rescued this girl from their car! _ ”

Before either the cop or me could respond, a news van screeched to a halt behind me, and I was fairly certain I heard more approaching. A dark-haired woman and cameraman spilled out, proceeding to violently speed-walk toward me while the woman already began to talk into the lenses. 

“...claims a black suited figure fled the scene. Here the figure returns, having stopped a car identified by police as carrying a kidnapped child. Just with a first glance, we can see the webbing used to tie up the woman named Electro spread over this car. Excuse me… just what is your name?” The woman quickly approached me, holding out her microphone. I could sense the cop behind me raise his arm to say something, but obviously failing at the right words in front of a camera.

A name, huh? My mind drifted off to how I got these powers in the first place. “Uh, Spider. Just Spider.”

“Well, ‘Just Spider,’ why the sudden appearance in New York City? What do you hope to accomplish with your current methods?”

“I…want to be a light for people.” I couldn’t believe I was actually saying this. “So much terrible stuff is happening. I want to act as a beacon of hope.” 

“A beacon! Such interesting choices of words! Now tell me, what drove you to think of this imagery of light? Was it this incident Friday evening?”

“No, it’s… I need to go.”

“Well thank you, Spider!” she said cheerfully as I fwipped away. 

The reason for my sudden departure wasn’t necessarily because I didn’t know how to show the weirdest power in my arsenal, but instead due to my lack of a politician’s mouth. If I wanted to become some figure like I said, then making a fool of myself wasn’t the first step. But I didn’t want to shape myself and my words for the media… I needed another reason. 

My shirt buzzed; I dug around for my phone attached to me with sweat. Gwen came through the other end, sounding ecstatic. 

“Guess what I just saw on TV!” she cheered.

“A really funny commercial?”

“I see you used the quote I gave you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have to time to rehearse a speech of my own.”

“You did good. If the police still try a path of incrimination, my dad and his colleagues will try to vouch for you. I mean, you did break the law but the people you put away broke it a million times harder. Oh hey, get this! My dad is going to the shooting range tonight. I asked him to teach me how to use a gun, now that I have free time.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can give me pointers sometime.”

“Is ‘The Spider’ going to use a gun?”

“Probably not, but Derek Driver might need one.”

“Mmm. We’ll see.”

“Catch up with you later.” Click. 

I stuffed the phone away while still swinging about. 

No other crime showed itself to me, so I spent until dark back at the greenhouse. 

\---

Ben never asked enough questions as he should. Part of me was grateful for that aspect. When everything finally settled down, maybe I could spend time with him again.

The displayed TV blared beside me. “Yesterday, a kidnapping was suddenly stopped by a figure in black clothing…” I passed on. I didn’t want to listen even if it involved me.

I oddly heard no talk of any poisonings when I entered Midnight High. The girl assigned to the case went here, yet she continued to elude me. She existed, right?

Turning in my poor excuse for an essay in first period reminded me of my two other busywork assignments, which has escaped my mind. Crap. I guess I’d have to get used to balancing my double lives. Every available second in my consecutive classes were spent sneaking BS onto lines. 

Today during lunch, I decided to spice up my usual path to my locker. I wanted to throw my muscle memory in a loop, forcing me to experience the boring hallways in a new light. And what do ya know, on the way there I encountered Gwen, still at her own locker. How the turntables.

“Hi.” I said creepily, coming up right beside her as payback.

The locker door clanged as books fell out of her hands. “Oh- wow, hi.”

She mixed up her outfit again by wearing a black headband, pushing back the wavy hair usually covering her forehead and face.

“How’d yesterday go?” I asked.

“Fun. I missed every shot.”

“Beginner’s...unluck? What’s the opposite of luck- oh I got it now, beginner’s misfortune.”

The purple locker door clanged shut, Gwen pushing blonde locks back behind her ear and slightly chuckling at my clearly 11/10 joke.

I remembered her other dealings. “And how’d the test go?”

“Easy.”

“Easy? You were freaking out a couple days ago.”

“I ended up remembering most of the material from class. Harry was also a big help.”

“Well dang, now I’m a little jealous.”

“I really like chemistry, though. My other classes aren’t so hot.”

“Still probably straight A’s.”

“...Perhaps.” She perused her pink backpack and tore out her map. “Hey. New target.”

“Already? You know I said Monday as a joke, right?”

“Uh-huh, I actually have one though.”

“What is it?”

“The poisonings.”

There were three crises occurring when Gwen and I first joined forces. Now she wanted to attack the second one, but why not…the one directly relating to me? Although, that path did lead to the most dead ends. 

“You sure? Isn’t there an entire police case right on top of it?”

“You stand correct.”

“What made you want to pursue these now?”

“I decided that if there’s any hint of something I want to do, then I’m going to get off my ass and do it. ‘To hell with it,’ remember?”

“But… what can we do that your father can’t?”

“Derek, you have superpowers!”

“Powers that don’t help solve a case.”

“You underestimate yourself. And change can occur through you. I know now its possible to me have change too, now that I’m with you. Why are you suddenly so doubtful when we solved the outages?!”

I stayed silent.

“One more thing: I wanna bring Miles back into this.” 

“Didnt you want the least amount of people involved as possible?”

“Hmm… I think having all the help we can get now will pay off later, if things ever go wrong. That completely contradicts what I said before, doesn’t it. But I don’t see Miles as currency for help or something like that; people are more than that.”

“Can you find him?”

“Actually, no. He’s been missing all day.”

“Then…”

“Give me a bit.” Gwen swung her door (lacking an awesome tiny mirror) shut and walked to the cafeteria- at least I guess that’s where she went, to eat with Flash or whoever. Time to get my own lunch.

Alright, apple secured for my midday meal. Now it was Harry’s turn to approach me, whose hair looked drastically different today: upright, glossy and short-layered like a movie star from a 2002 superhero film.

“How ya doing, Harry?”

His eyes were analyzing me.

“You okay?”

“You’re the Spider, right?” he asked. “The man on TV was wearing my goggles.”

“I-uh, yeah.” There was really no point in lying. 

Light filled his eyes. “I want to design a suit. A real suit.”

“You’re joking.”

“Uh-uh. I even want to update the goggles.”

Wow. “You’d do all that?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I would. I think you’d be surprised at all the other stuff I’ve made in the lab before. Now I can make something for a purpose.”

“That sounds awesome. You’re really up for it?”

“To me, this is a fun project. I’m definitely up for it. You have multiple powers?” He came closer, pressing me for answers. “Tell me about them. I wanna know everything for this suit.”

\---

I never really ate at the cafeteria, never having anything worthwhile to savor. Thanks to a surprisingly lenient school policy when it came to traveling during lunch, my destinations for my pathetic snacks included outside against a wall somewhere. After meeting Miles the first time, I now had a new place to eat previously never crossing my mind: the roof. 

Quadruple checking if the coast was clear, I crawled up the backside of the building and munched on a fairly tasteless fruit, instead enjoying the unique location. 

Solar rays hid behind skyscrapers after school, giving the imitation of cloudiness despite the overbearing, plain blue sky above. 

A couple clunks echoed on the concrete stairs, becoming louder until Gwen sat down next to me. 

“Did he skip today?” I said turning to her. 

“In a sense.” 

“In a…”

“Come.  _ Come _ !” She added, gesturing to me still lazily picking myself up. 

We began walking down the street. “Is he at the diner or sumthin-” I started to ask, but Gwen sharply changed direction into the alley of the red-bricked building right next to the high school. Miles faced one of its walls while pacing, vigorously churning a crimson red spray-paint bottle. 

“Dude, you have balls of steel.” I commented, taking in the sprayed image of a devil driving his pitchfork through a building, tearing it apart. “You’re not worried - at all - that someone might catch you?”

Miles set down his can. “Does it matter to you?”

“Uh, I guess not. Just watch-”

“Ooo! Had a little shock of inspiration. You have any purple?” Gwen butted in, walking over.

Miles stepped back, presenting a clear box full of spray paint cans. “Got all kinds of colors.”

“Wh-” I tried to ask. 

“Awesome.” She snatched one of the lighter purples, bringing it to the wall and spraying an informal, stretched out ‘X’ near the top right of the artwork. 

“Yeah, that’s cool.” critiqued Miles.

“You say you’ve grown apart, yeeeeeet…” I pushed.

“Aw come on. We hang out  _ sometimes.  _ It’s… harder to do now.” said Gwen.

A sigh emitted from Miles. “Time flies by, though. I refuse to believe it’s already been a decade since we tried to draw with chalk on the streets.”

“And that mean guy stepped on your dragonfly.”

“I didn’t know both of you liked to draw.” I said awkwardly. 

“Only a tiny bit for me,” said Gwen. “Miles is the one that took it further and makes meaning out of it.”

“Anyways…” came Miles in a rushed voice. No way, was he actually embarrassed? “What did you guys want to talk about? That’s why you’re here...”

“Have you heard about the poisonings?” inquired Gwen, once again in junior detective mode. 

“Somewhat. Don’t know much about them.”

“That’s how we are, too. So we - er, I - was wondering if you wanted to help us again. Considering I only have a smidge of an idea of where to start.”

“Sounds interesting. Isn’t there that Yuriko chick on it who’s like annoyingly smart, though?”

“Well,” Gwen shot a split second glance of anxiousness my way. “There’s things we can do that don’t have to follow the law.” 

“What the hell are you planning?”

“I’m just saying! We don’t have to follow the same rules, be succumbed to the lines of red tape; we can get out there, try to find something again- and its something we both enjoy.”

Miles dragged his sneaker across the concrete. “Ugh. Yeah, I guess? I don’t mind the rules part, but I kind of want to know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Let’s meet at Triple Eddie’s tonight. 6:30. I want to catch up with Dad first. I’ll see you guys!” Gwen began to duck out into the brighter light. 

“Yeah, see ya Gwen.”

Miles and I then stared at each other for the longest three seconds of my life until I threw my hands in my pockets and got out of there. 

I almost ran into Gwen as she came sprinting back. “I forgot.”

My phone was snatched from me, Gwen now fiddling with it in one way or another. 

“Please tell me what you are doing.”

“I added the podcast.” she said, handing it back. “Jameson isn’t the nicest guy, but through his bellowing you can tell he cares about the city. I know recently you haven’t wanted to watch the news, so maybe this will help: words not from a produced broadcast, but from one guy that cares about New York.”

\---

Instead of someone being poisoned today, they would be cut and strung amidst a cloud of fireflies. I could understand being in Detective Stacy’s position, never obtaining an ounce of rest, having every day be devoted to a new murder. 

Scanning the area around me, I managed to stop a random thug, making sure a passerby actually called the police instead of ignoring the webbed man right next to them. 

I managed to find nothing else for the next hour. Maybe my senses still weren’t honed enough to detect this kind of thing, or maybe everyone was still on edge, dangerous crime being so relevant and inescapable. 

Swinging to the greenhouse, I almost fell when a deep tremor invaded my ears. I quickly stuck to the building closest. Listening again, my spider-sense (I decided to dub it that, stemming from the stupid name I chose for myself) picked up a low screech dancing inside the infrastructure; it reminded me of a train’s horn, except somehow singing and chugging the train along in circles instead of passing by. 

My head leaned against the glass windows, trying to determine any source at all for the vibrations. I also heard gasps and short screams from people starting to notice me as I slowly crawled along the street’s facade, following streaks and pulses. 

That continued without fruition until I caught sight of a screen displaying a digital clock.  _ 6:15 PM.  _ Once again confused at the briskly passing time, I peeled myself off of my current building and fwipped along. 

I heard a notification on my phone during the way there; texting-and-swinging, I noticed its responsible party was Just the Facts. Deciding on listening to it getting to the pizza joint, I stuffed my phone into my shirt again, able to hear it thanks to my super hearing among whooshes of wind. After a compressed trumpeting jingle, Jameson spoke:

_ “I’ve noticed that our city’s newspapers and news channels very much enjoy piggybacking off of our esteemed serial killers in regards to front pagers and headlines. This woman dead, this man poisoned, blah blah blah. Don’t misunderstand me: they passed in terrible ways. But now they churn out one story after the other, borrowing on deaths we KNOW will happen! Here’s some topics that AREN’T about murder!: entire organizations helping the homeless in New York! Apartments still without power in Greenwich! Come on, journalists. The Daily Bugle, most of all ANDNOIMNOTJUSTSAYINGALLOFTHISBECAUSEIWASFIRED- Jeanie, get my pills!” _

\---

We the three ace detectives shared a large pepperoni, trying to “piece” (Derek Driver original joke) together anything we knew about the second string of crimes. We, however, knew nothing.

“I think we’re just gonna have to ask Yuriko.” I said to Gwen. 

“I’d rather it not have to come to that…but you’re right.” She sighed and wiped her face.

“Because of your father?”

“Yup. If someone in the department tells him I’m investigating the murders behind his back… it would probably ruin everything we’ve built since Mom died. It took him years to let me out into the world by myself.”

Pretty sure Miles, who sat there silently, was on his fourth slice. He did eventually set it down, however, and spoke his mind. “If this never works out, we got that new guy?”

“New guy?” repeated both of us.

“Yeah, have you seriously not heard? The Spider. Who actually has superpowers or cool tech or whatever. There’s been rumors before, but there’s never actually been a superhero in real life! I saw those pervs stuck to their car. He’s awesome.”

Gwen kicked me under the table as I spat out a tiny bit of my water. That is so unfair. 

“Uh, you alright?” I received his condescending judgement told by wrinkles of the forehead. 

“Wrong pipe.  _ My bad _ .” I babishly slid the glass toward the center of the table.

“You think he’s actually here to help?” pressed Gwen, keeping the dramatic irony.

“Two serial killers, but now we have a third guy putting his face out there and saving a girl from being kidnapped? Definitely. Someone good finally doing crap around here.”

No updates from Gwen’s dad tonight. Ben welcomed me home, accompanied by a boring “Hey, how are you” and “Fine.” Papers shuffled out onto my desk as I pulled out homework still unfinished. When was I going to find time to do all this?

Spinning in my desk chair, distracted, I suddenly noticed a spider chilling in a web he made under my desk. I let him do his thing. I also named him Jimmy. 


End file.
